Whirlwind
by Supa Supa Bad Truly Mad Moves
Summary: The lives of two young half-elven women are shaken out of their daily routine when they are called upon to become the adventuring team Whirlwind. Novelization of a campaign in a homebrew setting. [scrapped, to be rebooted]
1. People Who Wear Masks

**Disclaimer:** Any identifiable elements of _Dungeons & Dragons_ are the property of their respective creators and trademark holders.

 **DM's Note:** _Hello, welcome to_ Whirlwind _, the literary adaptation of the_ Dungeons & Dragons _adventure I've been running._

 _I've kept a meticulous record of the sessions, so dialogue is, to the best of my ability, a word-for-word recreation of what was said in-game. Fight scenes are essentially a blow-by-blow of in-game combat, hopefully actually fun to read. Intended to be just a bare-bones recap of precisely what happened for the benefit of current and future players, the prose isn't going to be especially meaty, but I do still want it to be an interesting read, so I'll put the effort into evocative visual descriptions, if nothing else._

 _Our system of choice is 4th Edition, which, as I'm sure you know, is a system which emphasizes cinematic action sequences a bit too much for any other storytelling aspect to really shine, but we're gonna stick with it; I do appreciate the edition for its design intent, and while we're currently playing by-the-book I'll be changing whatever rules I need to change in order to make for a more fun experience. It'd probably be even more fun to just change to 5th Edition, but we all took the effort to learn 4th and it's the one edition that really can't be converted into another mid-stream. It'll be fine. The rules will just adapt and grow to suit the campaign's needs._

 _No one I've played with yet knew the first thing about D &D when we started, which has its good and bad sides. For one thing, I've been so familiar with it from a very young age that I often don't realize something is going over someone's head and needs to be explained. And when it's brought to my attention, I don't even know how to explain something I've taken as a given for most of my life. On the other hand, it's really awesome that they're not savvy about the setting, storytelling conventions, creatures—everything's a surprise to them, and that's delightful. Based on all the stories and comics, it would seem like DMing for people who've played before would be incredibly depressing, like all they do is crack jokes and cause chaos._

 _The campaign world is, well, nobody really knows yet. I can tell you that it's based mostly on the core 4th Edition setting and takes elements from every campaign setting that I'm aware of, and exists in neither conformity nor defiance to any aspect of the overall D &D multiverse. I'm giving every rule and concept my own loose, personal interpretation. So, no big picture yet, but lots of big ideas._

~0~0~0~

 **WHIRLWIND**

 **Chapter 1: Formation of a Whirlwind  
** **Episode 1: People Who Wear Masks**

" _I think we all wear masks, my friend. Only in the dark are any of us who we truly are."  
_ Asner Adgard, human soldier, 110 years after the fall

~0~0~0~

The skies were darkening over the rooftops of Sheradon, the stars beginning to appear, tiny shimmering orbs in many sizes and every imaginable color, while the silver-blue moon hung overhead, as large as a chariot wheel, halfway through the process of waxing.

From her vantage point, pacing back and forth on a rooftop above the rather pathetic community garden, Anwen could see her entire neighborhood, the small cluster of buildings tucked into the northeastern corner of Sheradon. Her permanent snarl etched into her face, she scanned the streets, this squalid niche of the city coated in years of dust, the homes ramshackle and crumbling.

Anwen was a frail-looking woman, eighteen years of age and little over five feet tall; her bluntly-pointed ears revealed her as a half-elf, while her face strongly favored her elven heritage, narrow and angled with oversized, slanted eyes of a dazzling emerald green.

She wore a tunic of boiled leather, studded with metal rivets, but it was more a fashion statement than a suit of armor, as it was alluringly low-cut and contoured to her slender elven figure. A large battle-axe was held loosely at her side, her bony arm lifting it with unsettling ease, while a sword in a curved scabbard rested at her left hip. Her face and hair were coated with the grease and dirt of more than a tenday.

After another brief scan of the plaza below, she turned on her heel, pacing the other way along the narrow rooftop, ever alert.

"Well, this is just sad."

Anwen turned. Approaching her from the ground was an unfamiliar man, his long, shaggy brown hair more well-groomed than any resident of this neighborhood, wearing green-tinted glasses and a crisp suit with fiery patterns.

"So it's true," he continued in a smooth, confident voice, pausing occasionally to take a puff on a cigar. "The spitting image of Rachael Ma'Sijor spends her days puttering around the slums district. Pitiful."

Anwen grasped her axe in both hands. "How do you know…?" she said quickly.

"I've been looking for you for a while," said the man. "It was a dark time when the world lost your parents, the two finest rangers ever to roam the wilderness. It's darker times still when their daughter spends her life beating up back alley thugs." He grinned nastily, leering at her over his shades. "I shudder to think what they would say if they could see you now."

"I don't need you to lecture me on my life choices," Anwen said tersely. "Not like anyone else is going to make it safer."

"Perish the thought," he said. "But how much can one young person do?"

Anwen said nothing, but her lips curled back in a sneer.

Unfazed, the man held up a small slip of parchment. "My name is Semaj Oklahim. I knew Rolen and Rachael Ma'Sijor when they lived. I'm something of an investor, and I'd like to invest… in you."

Anwen's grip on her axe tightened. "What do you know?" she said quietly.

Semaj toyed with his cigar, twirling it in his fingers over and over. "I know a lot. I make it a point to know things. But I didn't know where _you_ were until recently, when the slums district started a-buzzin' about your feats of justice. Just the kind of young woman I was hoping I'd find, but such a waste of potential…"

"What are you getting at, by stalking and insulting?" Anwen demanded. "Why am I still listening to you…?"

He spread his arms graciously. "The world needs heroes, Miss Ma'Sijor," he said grandly. "I'm hoping to put a little team together. How about you join me and… give your life a bit of meaning?"

"I'm already giving myself meaning."

"You may see it that way," he said, "but I think that's only because you don't know just how much real meaning you could have. I must insist you take my card." He stretched his arm out toward her, the small slip of parchment held between his fingers.

Anwen took a single step and jumped off the rooftop, landing heavily on the cracked, dirty cobblestones. She stepped forward and snatched the card, glaring at him a bit before taking a look at it. After a brief scan, her eyes widened with recognition, and Semaj smirked.

She sighed, looking back at him. "Who are you?" she asked grudgingly.

"Exactly who I said," he stated, his smug smile billowing as much as his cigar smoke. "Semaj Oklahim, investor. Was never an adventurer or a hero myself, but I respect the profession. And you're clearly going _nowhere_ on your own initiative, so…" He let that hang, gesturing with his cigar.

Anwen sneered at him, but dropped her axe to the ground and offered him her hand.

He shook it vigorously with his own, pulling her close and grinning. "Fantastic, Miss Ma'Sijor. With your pedigree, I think we can make the world a much better place. We'll be in touch." He saluted her as he turned to leave.

"I suppose so," Anwen said reluctantly, staring after him as he disappeared into the encroaching night.

She didn't have long to think about it before she heard fearful whimpering coming from a nearby back alley, and didn't hesitate for a second before scooping up her axe and running straight toward the sound.

Stopping at the mouth of the narrow alley, she saw an emaciated, filth-encrusted old man, his back pressed against the wall, pinned there by two young women.

Atasha was an eladrin, a high elf; tall and pale, with needle-sharp elven ears and her golden hair tied back with twine. Like all elves, she looked no older than twenty but had an air of being much older. She was clad in a gray tunic of hide and fur with a wide neckline cut all the way down to her sternum, and casually leaned against a wall, looming over the old man.

To the man's side was Rhea, a tiefling girl in her teens, crouched in a bestial stance and blocking his escape. Appearing mostly human, her skin was powder-blue and dotted with vibrant blue freckles, her waist-length hair was voluminous and bright purple, a long, twitching reptilian tail protruded from the back of her leather dress, and shiny black horns extended from her brow.

"Hey!" Anwen barked, drawing her scimitar and bringing both of her weapons to bear. "Back. Off."

"Oh hey, Ma'Sijor," Atasha said casually in her musical, lilting voice. "Nothing to see here, good buddy, we just saved this gentleman's life and are discussing what he can do to repay us."

"Is that why he's cowering?" Anwen retorted, lowering her weapons.

"Well, he's just being a bit _stubborn_ ," Atasha said sweetly, pinching the man's cheek. She turned her gaze to Anwen, her large, pupil-less purple eyes looking her over with amusement. From a sheath slung across her back, Atasha drew a scimitar of her own, and twirled it artfully as she strutted in Anwen's direction. "I dunno. How do _you_ get people to pay you?"

"I don't," Anwen said quietly. "Nothing more rewarding than someone living another day."

Atasha shrugged. "Well, maybe virtue is its own reward for _you_ , but we like to think about things like, you know, how _we_ live another day. Rhea, darling, do make sure the client doesn't skip out on us."

Obliging, Rhea hissed at the man, keeping him pinned to the wall with fear of her fangs and talon-like fingernails, her glittering red eyes narrowed.

"I've tried to be nice," Anwen said calmly, pointing her sword toward Rhea.

"Easy," said Atasha, gently pushing down the blade of Anwen's weapon with her own. "No one _wants_ to start a fight. We're just trying to earn our keep. Surely you understand. How _do_ you support yourself, anyway?"

Anwen glared.

Atasha leaned in close to her. "Won't you please help us?" she whispered. "We're only trying to make an honest living. You know better than anyone how tough the hero business can be."

"I do," Anwen said, fury bubbling up within her. "But you know something? The 'client' isn't obligated to reward you."

The eladrin placed her hands on Anwen's shoulders. "Then what's it all for, my dear lady? What's… it all… for?"

Anwen's sneer intensified. Rhea's menacing stance began to falter as she stared at Anwen in fascination. Seeing an opening, the old man made a break for it, running for the alley's opposite end. Rhea did a double take, then stared meekly at Atasha's back.

Atasha merely rolled her eyes. "Damn it, Rhea."

Anwen smirked and coolly slipped her scimitar back into its scabbard. "Well, it was nice talking to you ladies. I'm sure we'll do this again." She turned her back to them and walked away.

"What the damn hell, Rhea?" she heard Atasha snap.

"I'm thorry!" Rhea said desperately.

At this point, the night had arrived completely. In the darkness, Anwen gravitated toward the only light source in the slums district: a single towering lamppost, overlooking an empty plaza.

A man leaned against the lamppost. He was dressed all in black, up to his sloppily-dyed tangle of long hair, and held a gnarled wooden staff in hand. As she entered the light cast by the lantern atop the tall iron pole, he turned his face toward her. He wore a mask, which bore a horrible resemblance to the front of a human skull. Anwen stopped in her tracks and tightened her grip on her axe, looking over the stranger cautiously.

He waved his free hand, and the lamppost was instantly snuffed out, leaving the plaza in total darkness. A moment later, a black orb laced with glowing red light appeared in the air beside Anwen's head, illuminating her and her surroundings while the masked man remained concealed in the darkness somewhere ahead.

From the darkness, a missile of pure magical energy shot forward and struck her in the chest. Barely reacting to the blow, she raised her axe and marched into the darkness, aimed unerringly for the very spot where he had been standing.

Alarmed at her direct charge, he flicked a wand at her, and a fireball exploded at Anwen's feet. When the flames dissipated, she could hear beating feet running away from her. She sprang off in that direction and narrowly missed him with a wide swipe of her axe.

He ducked under a second swipe and leapt out of her reach, and his next spell created a concussive thunderclap that cracked the cobblestones beneath Anwen's feet. Muscling her way through the blast, Anwen listened once again for him in the darkness, and realized he was taking refuge in the gazebo, a neighborhood landmark tucked into the northeastern corner of the very city. She made her way to the gazebo's stairs, her scimitar slipping effortlessly out of its sheathe and arcing through the air, slicing into the masked man's forearm. He took a single step back, shooting a blast of icy air at her, while she twirled around, hitting him only with the flat of her axe blade.

The man's outline blurred, and he darted away from Anwen at an impossible speed, disappearing somewhere into the dark streets. A moment later, a pink mist filled the gazebo, making Anwen's head feel foggy. She shook her head rapidly, fighting her way past the sleepy effects of the spell as she determinedly strode out into the streets after him, having absolutely no idea where he was, swinging her axe randomly at nothing at all.

He cast his fire spell again, catching her in the explosion. The fire burned at her midriff, leaving shining, smoking holes in her leather. Exhausted now and breathing heavily, she briefly caught a glimpse of him in the light of the fireball, and viciously charged at him, her feet pounding and her scimitar swiftly knifing into his shoulder.

Speaking for the first time, the stranger muttered, "Enough of this." He sidestepped her and darted away—into the midst of his light spell. Bathed in red light, he turned around and gazed out into the darkness, scanning it for signs of Anwen.

Anwen's breath came in heaves as she stared after him, confused. Taking a deep breath, she slowly and cautiously moved toward the light, lingering just outside the reach of it. She waited for him to take some kind of action, but he did nothing.

"But…" she muttered out loud, stopping herself before saying anymore. Sighing at her own blunder, she took a chance. "What's going on?" she called to him.

The instant she called out, his hand lunged out and another burst of fire enveloped her. Growling with anger, Anwen snapped her fingers sharply, igniting a burst of flame in the air. He casually sidestepped it.

Grumbling, Anwen entered the light, stomping toward him. He stepped back, firing a lightning bolt at her from his fingertip, leaving a massive bleeding wound on her chest. Desperate, she slashed at his face with her scimitar, but it was deflected by his mask. In return, he whacked her across the forehead with his staff. Beaten down, she slowly swung her scimitar, slashing his chest.

He took a step back and shot another magical dart at her. It hit her squarely between the eyes, and she collapsed, flat on her back in the streets, unconscious. The man stood over her patiently, listening carefully to her strained breathing.

Thirty-six seconds later, Anwen died in a pool of her own blood.

~0~0~0~

 **DM's Note:** _This was a reboot of a campaign I put together in early 2014. It was my first serious stab at being a Dungeon Master and everyone else's first time playing. As the months passed, we got a few sessions in, but eventually schedules required us to start doing it in a play-by-post format, which was nice and convenient for everyone who wasn't the DM, but for me, turned DMing into even more of a full-time job than it already is, so I called it quits. A year later, I sought to start it over from the beginning, hoping that what we learned from the campaign would bring about a better story, more balanced characters, ultimately the same campaign but cooler and realer. One big decision was to start the story in a more subtle fashion than just putting the band together in a tavern, hence this little Anwen solo adventure._

 _We had all but finished prepping the characters again after a few weeks of work when Meredith, the original player for Anwen, decided she shouldn't play D &D anymore for religious reasons. It was a harsh blow, but it was one I'd had a feeling was coming, so I recovered quickly. I sought out McKenzie, creator of a character intended to be introduced later, and asked her to take over the role of Anwen, since most of the early material relied heavily on having Anwen in the lead role. It worked well! McKenzie syncs up with the gaming and storytelling style, and I hadn't even realized before Meredith left that I'd been tiptoeing around all the violent, sexy, and mythic aspects I'd truly wanted the new story to have. And apparently Meredith's husband has gotten her back into the game, so no harm done. Perhaps we'll even see her return to this campaign someday._

 _Although McKenzie had to wonder if I was motivated by revenge against Meredith when I deliberately got Anwen killed in the first session. But no, that had been my plan from the beginning as a way to start the story, to introduce the world to players (and fanfic readers) unaccustomed to certain assumptions that come easily to D &D players—assumptions such as death being a surmountable obstacle. She'll be right back._

 _Anyway, the first four entries of this story are adapted from the sessions we played back in mid-to-late 2016 before stopping once again. The creation of this story is part of the process of getting us hyped up for a return to the campaign._


	2. Sides of a Coin

**DM's Note:** _Publishing this story was always part of the campaign plan. The original 2014 version of the campaign had a story adaptation as well; I eventually scrapped it along with the campaign itself. Figured I might as well have, since the only feedback it had ever gotten was people pointing out the grammatical mistakes in the dialogue of a character who, it was explicitly stated, didn't speak Common very well. So, consider that a heads-up to you. Not mistakes at all, just the way this character talks._

 _That story had an agenda similar to this one's, but a bit more pronounced. Shortly after every session, I'd post a chapter of the story, but adapting it like a book to film, using the story to reroute the events of the campaign to be closer to what my original intent had been. Yeah. Bad DM. With this reboot of the campaign, I'm committed to retelling it exactly the way it happened whether I agreed with it or not._

 _Reading the dialogue of this story, you might get the impression that I'm still being a bad DM, that the NPCs are seizing control of the narrative and not letting the player characters get a word in edgewise, like I'm running a non-interactive cutscene. That's not quite how it went down. Rather, the players did a lot of roleplaying that was 100 percent internal monologue. And don't get me wrong, it was very good internal monologue, they put a lot of effort into it, and that's why, all those times they didn't actually say or do anything, I deigned to just keep the scene going rather than press the issue._

 _I intend to break them out of that habit. To that end, none of their internal monologue will be included in this story, all their beautiful paragraphs lost to history and replaced with the awkward silences that they were in the story's universe. A bit brutal, I know, but it had to be done. I'll do whatever I have to do to make sure they know that they're the player, not the pinball. This story is about what they say and do, not what they think about what's going on around them. Some players know this intuitively, but mine, I think, are accustomed to the kind of collaborative storytelling that's all RP and no G, and the presence of a narrator and authority figure, the DM, put them in the mindset of being the audience and thinking their job was to react rather than act._

 _That's just a theory, I haven't actually asked for their reasons yet. Regardless, they got better and I'm sure they'll continue to get even better than that._

~0~0~0~

 **WHIRLWIND**

 **Chapter 1: Formation of a Whirlwind  
** **Episode 2: Sides of a Coin**

" _We need each other, you and I. I who have been everywhere and yet nowhere, you who have been nowhere and yet everywhere. I would not dream of undertaking this without you."  
_ Merepien, human chieftain, 4,903 years before the fall

~0~0~0~

"Help! Need some help over here!"

Pelora sat up in bed abruptly, roused by the sound of the front doors of the temple banging open. Clad only in her white robe, she leapt out of bed and hurried quietly down the short hallway that connected the temple's back rooms, rushing into the main chapel.

There, the door closing behind him to conceal the starlit night sky, came the man in the flame-patterned suit, cradling the limp, bloodied body of a half-elven woman.

Three members of the clergy rushed to his aid, setting the woman atop the central altar and gathering around her. Pelora hung back, watching with fascination and unease.

Pelora's mother, Suci, a short and plump woman with dark curly hair, gently pressed her fingers against the young woman's neck. "She's dead," she gasped, eyes wide.

"I know," said the red-suited man hastily. "Some ruffian killed her in the streets. Please, I need you to bring her back for me." He looked up at Suci, but his eyes quickly passed over her and shot directly to Pelora, prompting an intrigued grin to spread across his face.

Pelora shrank back at the unexpected attention. "Then," she stammered in her thick accent, grappling with the words of the Common tongue as she indicated the dead woman, "she must be very important for you, then?"

Disconcertingly, he laughed. "Oh, this girl is _very_ important to me," he said. "You must be Pelora—mythical daughter of the Newserges. What a rare treat to see you out front."

"Oh," Pelora said blankly. "It's rather nice to meet you, and while I'm flattered, I'm curious of how a stranger like you would know me, a simple and plain priestess daughter." She gave him a small, humble bow.

"I make it my business to know things," he said, walking around the altar to approach her. "Semaj Oklahim… how wonderful to meet you."

He reached out to shake her hand, but Suci swatted him away. "Now's not the time, sir," she said sternly. "I know the rumors that fly around this city, but the truth is that our daughter keeps to the back rooms because she is very timid and shy. And she should be in bed right now." She looked at Pelora pointedly.

Pelora frowned, confused. "There's a good reason why I am not asleep. A call for help were heard, and who would I be to deny it in the temple of Pelor?"

Suci began to retort, but the high priest interrupted from where he stood at the altar, beside Pelora's father. "At peace, Suci," he said softly, gazing down at the dead woman. "Your child is a priestess, and there is a lesson to be learned this night which all followers of the Shining One must learn."

Pelora perked up curiously. "What lesson?"

High Priest Jepser was a very old man; tall, thin, and hunched with spotted skin and a stern, regal face, clad in a hooded robe of tarnished gold and silver mail. He righted himself from leaning over the body and turned to address both Pelora and Semaj. "The power of the gods can raise the dead," he explained. "This knowledge often encourages the mortal races to take risks. But it is not so commonplace. In nature, death is meant to be eternal. And for most of us, so it is. I am sorry, Mister Oklahim. As much as I would like to repair this girl's unjust and untimely demise, none here has the power to raise the dead. And if we did, the magical salve required is not so easy to come by."

Almost instantly, Semaj placed a scroll on the altar alongside the girl, a roll of parchment sparkling and glowing with silvery magical energy, and beside it, an enormously heavy, jangling bag. "I have a scroll," he said smugly. "And if I understand the exchange rate, five hundred crowns should cover you for the salve."

Jepser looked taken aback, staring uncertainly from the scroll and the bag of money, then back to Semaj, several times. "Very well," he said shakily. "We shall revive your young friend."

"Praise be to Pelor," said Pelora's father, raising his eyes and palms to the sky.

Pelora smiled and mimicked the skyward gesture, dwelling on what she saw on the ceiling, the hanging golden ornaments devoted to the imagery of Pelor, the sun god.

Jepser rolled up his sleeves in preparation. "Cast from a scroll, the ritual shall take four hours. Would you like me to begin immediately, Mister Oklahim?"

"If you could," said Semaj, smirking.

"Very well."

The remaining two residents of the temple emerged from the back rooms and joined Pelora at the rear of the chapel. One of them lurked back, but Verthandi, an intimidating beauty with heavily freckled skin and a long blonde braid, came right up behind Pelora and clapped her hands over her shoulders. "What's the ruckus around here, kiddo?"

Pelora winced at the older woman's abrasiveness. "A half-elven woman were wounded and killed by… well, someone evil," she said meekly. "But there were this visitor her brought her here, he had a scroll and the high priest is reviving her now."

"We're raising someone from the grave?" Verthandi said eagerly. "I gotta be a part of this!" She rushed to the altar, quietly chattering to Jepser and helping him prepare mystic salves as he cleaned the woman's face. The other priest, Oblio, shot Pelora a grin.

As Jepser and Verthandi worked, Semaj slowly strutted across the room and leaned against the wall alongside Pelora, putting a hand on her shoulder. "So… Pelora. What's a special girl with a name like that doing lurking around in the back room all the time? I was beginning to think you were a myth."

Pelora sighed. "While I do not know what kind of things you have heard from the townsfolks, I am sure it is a tad excessive. Here you see a simple priestess daughter and cleric. I am only named after the god we worship and honor in this temple." She offered him a polite, uncertain smile.

"Excessive? I'm not so sure." He leaned closer to her, whispering. "Any truth to the stories that you've always wanted to get up and see the world? Or… that you're being held here against your will?"

Pelora widened her eyes in surprise. "Why, no. Not against my will, although I would very much like to see the world outside the temple. Nevertheless, my duty is here and with the rumors of a suspicious darkness lurking out there… I do not think this time would be good for any light-hearted adventures." She shook her head, and gently pushed him back from the close proximity he was maintaining.

"Rumors of a suspicious darkness, she says?" said Semaj, loudly enough for the entire room to hear, causing several to jump in surprise. Semaj turned his gaze to Pelora's mother and father, waggling his eyebrows at them. "Now, I wonder where she got that from?"

Pelora's father instantly strode across the room and shoved Semaj away, looming dangerously over him before turning to face his daughter. Sadron Newserge was a towering golden-haired elf, his brown-skinned face youthful and handsome, his eyes a piercing blue.

He spoke to Pelora in the Elven tongue. " _This is why I ask you to avoid contact with strangers,_ " he said raggedly. " _Outsiders like to sow chaos._ "

" _I only tried to tell him the world outside was dangerous, my father,_ " she said defensively.

" _I get the distinct feeling he knows that_ ," Sadron said darkly, glaring at Semaj, who only smiled in return, his reaction making it impossible to tell whether he understood them or not.

"Just…" Sadron muttered, "go to bed, unless you wish to observe Jepser at the ritual. If so, please don't speak to Semaj again. I have certain doubts about a man who comes in here at night with a freshly-killed body _and_ the means to bring her back."

"I understand, Father," said Pelora. She turned her attention to the ritual; Jepser and Verthandi had removed the girl's armor and were cleaning off her body with water. Pelora focused on every detail of their actions, her eyes occasionally, involuntarily, darting back to Semaj.

~0~0~0~

Two hours passed. The woman had been cleaned, all of her clothing removed and her injuries carefully found and sealed, and every inch of her body covered in the glimmering green mystic salves. Now, towels were draped over her body as Jepser quietly prayed over her, sparkling magical energy hanging in the air around them.

After a bit of silence, Oblio sidled up to Pelora to speak. The acolyte was quite young, even younger than Pelora, dark-skinned and bald-headed, his hazel eyes dancing with curiosity.

"I wonder who she was," he whispered. "How does someone get killed in the streets like that?" He eyed the woman's leather tunic and the wicked sword and axe she had been wearing at her belt, set aside in a corner of the room.

"Perhaps a warrior, although I do not think her first mission might been successful," said Pelora.

"Nah," Verthandi said loudly, drifting over to them. "That's Anwen Ma'Sijor. She's a big thing in the slums district. Muggers and thugs tend to watch their step these days thanks to her. And look at those burns and bruises—it was no ordinary hoodlum that took her down. She's run into something big and brutal down there. My guess? Trouble is brewing in the slums."

"Another reason to stay away from the world outside then," Pelora said confidently. "I mean, the daily visitors has increased lately and they have been gossiping about a strange darkness in the shadows. First I just thought it was fantasies and rumors, but then I watched how afraid they seemed. Perhaps it is true."

Verthandi nearly giggled. "Darkness and shadows? Sounds like life to me. Nothing the light of Pelor can't drive away." She ruffled Pelora's hair. "I've never seen you up this late. You must _really_ want to see someone wake up from death. I know I do…"

"Well… disturb the balance of life and death is unnatural, and this is a special occasion, after all," Pelora mumbled, blushing. "But I do not think darkness and shadows is something to take lightly on…"

"Aw, kid." Verthandi held up her hand, and a spinning orb of light appeared there. "You're ever afraid of the dark, just do this. You're a servant of the Shining One. No darkness can touch you." The light dissipated, and she returned to watching the ritual.

Pelora nodded in agreement, and did her best to watch as well. Semaj, it seemed, was still staring at her.

~0~0~0~

Life returned to Anwen. With a powerful gasp, her lungs filled with air again, and her eyes snapped open. Her head spinning as it filled with the eye-stinging scent of the mystic salves, she glanced around, taking in the room, a handful of small gilded suns and marble eagles decorating the otherwise sparse and practical chapel.

She sat up quickly, becoming aware of the eyes of many strangers on her. Reflexively she reached for where her weapon belt ought to have been. Realizing that she was naked as the towel over her chest fell away, she clenched her fists at her sides, carefully eyeing the surrounding strangers one by one, until her gaze finally focused on Semaj.

Verthandi ran to the corner and retrieved Anwen's clothing from the floor, rushing back and placing the cloth and leather garments on the altar beside her. Anwen ignored them, staring at Semaj in disbelief.

When it was clear she wasn't going to say anything, Semaj clapped his hands jovially. "All right!" he said. "The mighty ranger lives again!" Pelora gawked at him, alarmed, and Anwen continued to stare blankly.

Jepser, kneeling at the altar, slowly got to his feet. "You may experience resurrection sickness," he told Anwen. "The only cure for such a thing is to continue living."

Shaken out of her reverie by these words, Anwen stood and raised a shaky hand to point accusingly at Semaj. "Why is _he_ here?" she snarled, standing up. Her intended yell came out barely audible, and her vision blurred, her stomach turned, and she was forced to sit back down almost immediately.

Unfazed, Jepser answered her. "Mister Oklahim is the reason you stand now in the realm of the living. He brought you to our doors. I know not what lies between you, but it is not the place of the church of Pelor to turn away those who seek healing and renewal." He bowed to her. "Nor is it our place to interfere with your affairs, I am sure. Just be aware that this man paid a great price to see you restored to life." He stepped aside leaving a clear path between Anwen and Semaj.

Anwen didn't respond, her eyes once again darting from one face to another. Shivering, she took a deep breath, in, then out, and looked down, avoiding eye contact as she rifled through her clothing, finding her undergarments. Faintly, grimly, she noticed that all of her injuries were completely gone, and that she was, though not clean by any standard, cleaner than she had been.

Semaj approached her. "I couldn't let you die on me, Miss Ma'Sijor. We had an arrangement!" He chuckled. "Seriously, though—what happened to you there in the streets… I think it proves my point. There's darkness brewing. The world needs heroes. I hope you'll continue to work with me."

Absently, she raised her eyebrow at him. "Wait, that thing… that wasn't… you mean you have no idea about what happened?"

"Nope," he said simply. "I don't know what happened. All I saw was you dead in the streets, having met your match. It was… devastating."

She stood up, her legs wobbling slightly, to look him straight in the eye. Reading nothing there, she hung her head, and folded one hand over the other, offering them up to him in approval.

He tapped the folded hands with his own. "There you go. Well, sorry you got killed and all. Talk to Pelora, I get the feeling you'd get along."

He was gone before he was finished talking, slipping out the door and disappearing into the night. Sadron and Suci instantly tensed up as Anwen turned, confused, in the direction he had pointed, to Pelora.

She was a half-elf like Anwen, but while Anwen favored her elven heritage, Pelora took after her plump little human mother: round-faced, curvy, and looking almost entirely human apart from the shape of her ears. She was olive-skinned, and her eyes were large, round, and dark. Her brown hair was done in a braid that surpassed her waist in length. The two stared at each other for a moment, silent and uncertain.

"Um… I'm alive," Anwen finally said. "And, er… here."

Pelora rubbed her own arms uncomfortably. "I'm sorry, but if you two need help or advice, I believe you should head to the High Priest Jepser," she said formally. "You wouldn't want to hear the naïve words from a little cleric like me." Her lilting elven accent was the thickest Anwen had ever heard, and her voice even had a sing-song brogue to it like a dwarf's; clearly, Common was neither her first nor second language.

Anwen pondered Pelora's answer as she continued to dress herself. "Well…" she said thoughtfully. "I want to know… what you do here? I mean, there's probably something that made you stay here… I mean, you all had a part in… saving my life… and everybody's part matters? You know?" Embarrassed, she squeezed her hands together, blushing and forcing a smile.

"That's right," Pelora said hesitantly. "Everyone have a part here." She stammered for a moment before proceeding. "You see, me and my parents are religious pilgrims and we're recently residing in this temple of Pelor."

Anwen nodded, fiddling with her leather tunic, pondering this response. "Did that man that brought me here say anything to you?"

"He said you were killed by… some ruffian, and needed to be brought back as fast as possible," Pelora replied. "Also he mentioned that you were sort of important to him."

Anwen scowled as she tried to make sense of it all. "Look, I'm sorry if I sound intrusive. I just… today was a long day and I don't know about Semaj or why he wants me to talk to you…" Her voice trailed away, and guiltily she scratched the back of her head. "Not that I wouldn't want to talk to you. You seem plenty nice, I just… uh… euah…" She made a few more mumbled noises, completely out of things to say. Ashamed, she turned away, hiding her face.

"I'm pretty sure he wants you to talk to me because of some silly gossips out there," said Pelora. "The townsfolk tends to speak high of me, but I'm not special or 'mythic' as Semaj probably heard." She gave a weary sort of chuckle.

"Oh?" Anwen said, alert now as she fastened her belt. "What exactly do they say?"

Suci stepped forward. "We don't keep it a secret that our daughter resides here," she said, "but few have seen her. Gossipy townsfolk have come up with every explanation, be it that she's some sort of avatar of Pelor who cannot be looked upon, or that we keep her imprisoned."

Sadron nodded in agreement. "The truth, more simply, is that we named our daughter for the god we serve out of nothing more than devotion to both he and she," he explained. Like his daughter, his accent was thick, but more elegant and refined. "And thus is the reason we ask her to hide away—while we bring the light of Pelor to the dark places of this world, we'd prefer that she lived her life unburdened by the troubles of the outside world, and spend all of that time within the light, within the places where no darkness can penetrate." Reverently, he brushed his fingers against one of the six-pointed sun symbols hanging from the ceiling, and just as reverently ruffled Pelora's hair with the other hand.

"So my dear," he continued, "you've seen now the power Pelor truly holds. The icy hand of death can be beaten back with four hours of prayer and well over a thousand crowns' worth of magical resources. It's uncommon, but it's attainable. Now that you've seen this, well, it's very late. We should all be getting to bed."

Anwen shifted in discomfort, sliding her hand into one of her gloves. Awkwardly, she rubbed the back of her neck, giving a weak smile in vague acceptance of Sadron's speech, with a slight glance in Pelora's direction.

Pelora smiled back. "Then I suppose it's time to rest," she said. "Dawn isn't far away, after all. Before I head to sleep, I do wonder what you'll do now."

"Well," said Anwen, pulling on her other glove, her final article, "I guess I should probably head home."

Unceremoniously, she walked to the temple's large double-doors and pushed. They didn't give in, but a pang ran through her side and her legs wobbled. She clenched her stomach, and realized that she had forgotten to bring her weapons. She turned around to face the room, wincing and nauseous.

"Hey," she said, blushing. "Um…. Pelor… people… I… I need to stay… just for one night. I'll leave soon after, I promise on… on Pelor." She flinched.

Jepser bowed his head. "Forgive me, but with the Newserges staying here we have no spare rooms. Perhaps Senior Priestess Verthandi could escort you home?"

"High Priest, may I say a word?" Pelora said nervously. "I don't think we can release her yet, she might suffer of the side effects. And wouldn't it be safer for her to stay just one night here? I do not mind offering her a place in my room."

Jepser turned to consult the Newserges. Suci nodded. "Well," said Jepser, "if the alternative is turning away one who is suffering, we could hardly call ourselves Pelorites if we did that."

"No, no," Anwen said quickly, raising one hand, but keeping the other on the door to steady herself. "Honestly, the escort would be fine, perfectly, really! You've done enough already and I really should just get home. Thank you." She staggered over to her weapons, taking up her axe and scabbard and attempting to make her way through the door again.

Pelora pouted, saddened by the unexpected rejection. "Wait, how about the ruffian who killed you?" she said suddenly. "If you were killed once… and what would happen if you'll be killed again? Please, reconsider. It's only for a night, to observe nothing's gone wrong."

Anwen's eyes quivered as she considered that. "If he's still out there he may hurt other people," she said. She turned around, pressing her back against the door, her weapons hanging limply from her hands. She looked down at her body before meeting Pelora's eyes. "But I guess it wouldn't help anyone if I tried to fight in my current physical state." At Pelora's excited reaction, Anwen pinched the bridge of her nose. "I believe I will only… _hopefully_ … need to stay for one night and I'll be out of your hair. Thank you."

The other occupants of the temple proceeded to the back rooms, departing to their individual quarters, leaving the two of them alone in the chapel.

"Thanks," Anwen said quietly as soon as they were alone. Biting her lip, she searched for something else to say. "Um, so your parents named you after the sun god? Do you like that?"

Pelora nodded. "Yes, my mother and father did name me after Pelor, the god of sun," she said with a smile, leading the way back to her bedroom.

Anwen smirked as she followed. "Rather silly, but I think it's kind of charming," she muttered.

Her smile vanished as stiffness ran through her back and neck. Fighting through the pain, she focused her eyes on Pelora and kept pace with her.

~0~0~0~

 **DM's Note:** _The previous note is not to say that the players had no initiative at all, because they definitely did. Rumors in town of some sort of darkness brewing? I didn't know anything about that, but she said it, so now it's true. Roleplaying resurrection sickness as actual feelings of illness, and being unwilling to walk all the way home because of it? That was good stuff, and I had nothing to do with it, I never would have thought about flavoring the temporary resurrection penalty beyond justifying it as "resurrection sickness", but she whipped out all those symptoms like it was obvious, and it was awesome. If it wasn't clear, the only PCs you've encountered so far have been Anwen and Pelora. And that's the way it's going to be, just the two of them, for quite a while._

 _Pelora's player is Nathalie, my fiancée. The origin of Pelora's struggles with Common is that Nathalie is Swedish and a fluent but largely self-taught English speaker, and I opted to leave her natural speech patterns intact, especially since it led to a fun world-building idea. You see, you never see that in fantasy: you never see elves who struggle with the human language. In most stories, the whole point of elves is that they're perfect and the best at everything, but in D &D, elves are just as flawed as everybody else, so I don't think they would speak the Queen's English when their first language is Elven. Therefore, in the _Whirlwind _universe, every elf or other fey creature you'll meet sounds like a Swedish person. That doesn't necessarily mean they have an obvious accent; plenty of well-known English-speaking actors are secretly Swedish. And by having Swedish equal Elven, I had the idea of picking real languages, accents, and cultural motifs to go with every culture in the D &D world—which was easy enough, as the 4th Edition universe only has ten languages in total._


	3. Parting Ways

**DM's Note:** _Heh, there's so much temptation to revise the NPC dialogue, as there always is when you re-read something you wrote almost two years ago; that goes double for something you ad-libbed. But nope, can't do that, I promised this would be a verbatim recreation of the campaign, and so it is._

 _Well, mostly. Because of the sheer volume of internal monologue I got in these initial sessions, there are moments when I've added something in, taking something that the players said through internal monologue or even out-of-character and having their character actually say it. This is a very rare occurrence, I usually don't mess with the dialogue even a little bit, but there will always be those small out-of-character asides that I think work just as well in-character, so I'll throw them in. Just little things. I think that would be an inevitability in adapting any campaign, don't you?_

 _And then of course sometimes I do change things if they don't make sense in-universe; if I realize I said "week", I realize, nope, we're using the Forgotten Realms calendar system, better change that word to "tenday". Religious-themed curses would of course be similarly modified. Internal consistency, you know._

~0~0~0~

 **WHIRLWIND**

 **Chapter 2: A Reason to Step Outside  
** **Episode 3: Parting Ways**

" _Have you ever taken a ship? Joined a wagon train? There you'll find a hundred strangers coming from where you're coming from, going where you're going. A hundred stories. It seems almost sad to part ways with them."  
_ Schooner Mori, human puppeteer, 12 years after the fall

~0~0~0~

Anwen awakened on the floor of Pelora's chambers, among a bundle of clean towels and linens set up at the foot of Pelora's bed. The room was very small, and sparsely decorated, containing little other than the bed and a small coat rack where two outfits were hanging.

Anwen sat up, unsure of what had roused her, until she realized she was hearing the sizzling of a stove. She stood up as quickly as she could and took a single step toward the coat rack before her legs started wobbling. Stiff and sore, she paused to stretch her neck and back, taking long, slow breaths.

Pelora was already awake, sitting up in bed and observing Anwen. "Good morning," she said softly.

"Yeah, you too," Anwen slurred, approaching the coat rack and fumbling with her tunic and weapon belt. After strapping herself back into her armor with shaking hands and stumbling into her boots, she bent down, squeezing and massaging her own legs, panting weakly.

Pelora walked up to her. "Follow me," she said. "I'm heading to the kitchen as well." She offered her hand, and Anwen clasped it and stood up. "Nothing's better than a good meal to start a day," Pelora remarked, giggling.

Allowing Anwen to lean on her, Pelora led the way down the hall to the kitchen, wearing only the white robe she had slept in. In the kitchen, a little alcove near the back of the temple, Suci was frying a skillet of eggs, potatoes, and seed cakes, while Jepser worked on small chunks of bacon-wrapped steak, and Sadron sliced a loaf of bread.

Sadron was the first to look up as they entered. "Ah, Miss Ma'Sijor. May we offer you breakfast before you go on your way?"

"Yes," Anwen blurted instantly, her face going red. She glanced back at Pelora, who smiled at her encouragingly. Looking back at the food, Anwen's stomach churned noisily, and she brought her hands to her face, moaning with both hunger and queasiness.

Jepser transferred the bits of meat from his pan to a plate, and brought the plate over to Anwen, offering one hand to keep her upright. "Remember to stay active," he told her. "That's the only way to get through this. If you feel too sick to run or fight—try to force your way through it, or else your revived body will only remain unbalanced."

Suci tilted her skillet toward Anwen to clearly display its contents. "Vegetarian option, dear?"

Without a word, Anwen snatched both the plate and the skillet and brought them to a table, taking a seat and stuffing her face with every bit of food there was. After a few seconds she stiffened, stopped, and, feeling the dizziness setting back in, proceeded to chew very slowly, embarrassed.

Pelora watched her curiously, taking careful note of her half-elven features—the blunt points of her ears rather than the needle-sharp points of a true elf, her body as slender as an elf's but as short as a human woman—and came closer, sitting beside her. "Where do you come from?" she asked.

"Huh?" Anwen mumbled, peering at her. She swallowed. "Here," she said quietly. "Though not really 'here', per se, just… around. You know?" She made a sweeping circular gesture with her fingers.

Pelora frowned at her, completely lost. "Where exactly is 'here'? Do you mean here in this city, here in this area? Or… here in this temple?"

"Um… well, the city," Anwen said slowly. "Never been anywhere else. Never really been in… _here_ before." She inhaled deeply and shoveled down a few more bites of food before backing off. Standing up, she looked around at the gathered priests. "Thank you for everything," she said respectfully. "It was very kind of you to do so. If our paths should cross, I hope it isn't in another fatal incident."

Pelora stood up as well. "Should I follow you out?" she said eagerly.

"No farther than the door!" Sadron exclaimed in a panic.

Pelora turned to him, wounded by his outburst. "I am just showing our guest the front door," she said quietly. "Nowhere else."

He grinned awkwardly, ashamed. "Erm… yes, of course. Ah, once you've done that… why don't you don your armor and begin today's combat training?"

"With all due respect, sir," Anwen cut in, "I don't think walking outside will kill her. Especially not if she's trained to fight."

Sadron's keen blue eyes narrowed at Anwen. "With all due respect," he echoed bitterly, "our family affairs are none of yours, Miss Ma'Sijor."

She eyed him back just as fiercely. "I never said it was any of my business," she said. "All I'm saying is that if she offers me the way out I'd say she has the right, and _I_ have the right to deny her help."

He glared. "Go, then," he said tightly. "Pelora, kindly escort her out."

Pelora nodded, smiling with relief, oblivious to the remaining tension. "I will do that, Father." She motioned Anwen along, leading her out of the kitchen.

"Take care, Anwen," Jepser called. "Remember, stay active."

"I will," Anwen called back politely, suppressing irritation. As Pelora walked her down the hallway toward the main chapel, Anwen fidgeted for a moment before speaking. "I'm sorry for putting you on the spot back there," she said, trying to catch Pelora's eye.

Pelora looked back at her and smiled easily. She was about to say something when her eye drifted down, setting upon a mark on Anwen's right arm: a jagged scar running from wrist to shoulder.

"What have you done?!" Pelora exclaimed in shock, before abruptly clapping a hand over her mouth, her cheeks going pink.

Anwen stopped walking, mildly surprised. She looked blankly at Pelora and lifted her forearm, displaying the scar clearly. Pelora looked away meekly, and Anwen softened, lowering her arm and biting her lip. "I got it when I was young," she admitted, taking a breath. "It… was one of the few times I let my guard down."

"What happened?" Pelora asked. "If that is okay? For you to talk about it?"

"I just wasn't ready for something," Anwen said flatly. "I wasn't thinking and I got hurt because of it!" She clutched at her head, her own raised voice causing a headache to flare up.

"Ah! Sorry!" Pelora said, bowing to her hastily. "I didn't meant to offend you."

Anwen's eyes were already on the front doors of the temple, and in another second she was walking toward them, opening one of them wide to the fresh air of the early morning. Pelora followed her, but stopped at the door, not stepping a toe outside.

Anwen turned back to her, and they stared at each other for a few moments, not saying a word. After a few moments, Anwen turned her back to Pelora and began walking away swiftly. She turned back only once, to find the door had swung shut behind her, blocking Pelora from view.

~0~0~0~

Pelora watched the plain closed doors for a while before turning back to inspect the room, looking at the large golden sun hanging from the ceiling at the center of the room. Pulling her eyes away from the symbol of Pelor, she saw that Jepser and her parents had entered the main temple.

Sadron glared at the door, displeased. "Well… I hope you didn't grow too attached to that girl, Pelora. I have my doubts we'll ever see her again. She didn't strike me as much of a believer." Seeing the disappointment on Pelora's face, he gently put a hand on her shoulder. "Get your armor, staff, and holy symbol. Let's get on with our daily routine and try to leave this little adventure behind us, yes?"

Pelora nodded. "Yes, Father."

She proceeded to her bedroom, and in a few minutes, she was dressed in her full vestments: a chainmail tunic worn over the white robe, a rose-red cape, knee-length sandals, and a headband woven out of golden wheat. Finally, she equipped herself with her holy symbol, a gold necklace displaying the six-pointed sun symbol of Pelor, and her staff, a six-foot length of coiled oak topped by yet another sun symbol.

Before leaving her room, she hesitated, looking to the embroidery by her bed. The small tapestry depicted a white bird in a spacious cage, surrounded by seeds, fruits, and a natural environment, but its tiny black eyes were staring through the bars into the sunlight, trees, and flowers outside. Pelora pondered her own forgotten artwork in confusion for a moment before dismissing it, returning to the chapel.

There, she found Jepser speaking to her mother. "I've sent Verthandi and Oblio out on some errands which should take them most of the morning. Wacky hijinks will no doubt ensue. If I could get you, Suci, on temple duty while I take care of things in the back?" He took note of Pelora and gave her a small smile.

Pelora stood back, awaiting instructions, her eyes drifting yet again to the outside door.

"Of course," Suci was saying. "Just let me freshen up and get my things and I will take care of our flock, as it were."

She prepared to return to the back rooms, but as she proceeded, the temple double doors opened noisily, and there stood a middle-aged man, somewhat rotund with a thick but trimmed black beard. He wore black armored clothing, but carried no weapon, and as he took in the sight of the temple, he seemed less than impressed. Jepser and Suci turned to look at him and both stiffened in surprise.

Sadron emerged from the back, and he too froze in his tracks at the sight of the man. "Ranft," he said gravely. "What news?"

"I was told to bring this to you, Sir Newserge," the man said gruffly, passing a sealed letter to Sadron.

He cracked the letter open, and Suci joined him in reading it. Jepser solemnly stepped aside, looking away. The stranger took another look around, this time spotting Pelora. He suddenly cracked a smile and laughed like a child at play.

Pelora recoiled in alarm. "I'm sorry, but why are you laughing?" she said uncertainly.

He wiped his eye, still laughing. "Because," he said, "the last time I saw you, you must have been… seven? Eight? At the dwarf village in the Feywild—you probably don't remember, but that was the last time I gave your parents a mission." He chuckled again. "You didn't speak a word of Common, but you were picking up Dwarven very well, as I recall."

"Oh," said Pelora, blushing. "I were a child back then, sir, and full of silly dreams about to see more than what my wagon could've given me."

"Ranft here is an agent of Pelor," Sadron explained. "He keeps us abreast of things which may interest the sun god. It was our last meeting with him that led your mother and I to go off on… on a mission…" He trailed off, looking back at the note with dawning horror.

"What mission?" Pelora blurted, before quickly clamping her mouth shut.

Her parents stared at each other fretfully. "Can we?" Suci breathed. "Runestone was one thing, but leaving her _here_? This is such a big, dark place…"

"We must," said Sadron, running his hands over his hair nervously. "We've been called by our god. But… she's not little anymore, Suci."

"I'm sure it will go well," Pelora offered. "It's not as if I'm a child. And nothing bad can happen if I remain safe, am I right?"

Sadron nodded, his hands shaking. "Yes… yes, of course. You will… remain in the temple. Answer to High Priest Jepser. Be vigilant in your combat training and your healing duties. And… and…" He flinched, pained, and forced out his conclusion. "And… you are permitted… to go across the street and ensure that our horses are being cared for and our wagon well-maintained."

"Truly?" Pelora said in surprise, reeling back on her heels. "Thank you. I won't disappoint you."

Sadron turned to Ranft. "Tell your contacts that we're on the case. We will leave immediately… er, soon, that is."

Suci embraced Pelora. "We know you'll be fine," she said. "You're a good girl, and a great cleric. Our path takes us to the south, where there are rumors of the sighting of an object Pelorites have sought for decades… and your path, as ever, is to remain within the house of Pelor. We can't tell you how glad we are that you accept that."

"Don't you worry," said Pelora, smiling. "I do like your horses and I'm sure they like me back."

Sadron smiled back at her. "They do indeed. They should, smart beasts that they are." He nodded to Ranft. "Be on your way, then. My wife and I shall be on the road within the hour. We thank you for the honor." Ranft bowed and left the temple without another word, while Sadron returned to the back rooms.

Suci lingered behind him. "We'll be back… it's hard to say when," she told Pelora. "Perhaps it shall be over and done within a tenday or two, as our last one was, but we simply don't have enough details to say for sure. All that we know is that it shall bring glory to Pelor and ease the suffering of many innocents. " She smiled. "Shine bright like the sun, Pelora. We love you." She too departed to the back rooms.

Uncertainly, Pelora turned her gaze to Jepser. He raised his eyebrows at her expectantly, but she said nothing, instead shrinking back awkwardly to the corner of the room.

~0~0~0~

Later, Pelora sat in the chapel with a book, turning the pages absently. At the sound of clanking armor, she glanced up.

Her parents stood over her, fully armored and displaying their emblems. Sadron wore a full-body suit of golden plate armor, a sword in a scabbard, and a small kite-shaped shield strapped to his forearm, while Suci wore a chain shirt over her blue dress, bearing a mace in one hand and her holy symbol, a ring around her first two fingers, in the other.

Sadron silently motioned for her to stand, and she hastily set her book aside and did so. "I suppose you're leaving now?"

He embraced her. " _Yes, my darling,_ " he said in Elven. " _May the blessings of Pelor be upon you._ "

" _Thank you, my father,_ " she replied. " _May Pelor watch over you and my mother._ "

"You'll watch over her, I'm sure?" Sadron said to Jepser.

"How much trouble is she going to get into across the street?" Jepser said innocently.

Sadron scowled, but the Newserges proceeded, their every step weighing heavily on them, not taking their eyes off of Pelora. They pulled open the doors, propping them open with stones to leave the temple open to the city, and stood in the entrance, turning to face Pelora one last time.

"Goodbye," they quietly said together.

Pelora waved to them, offering a smile. "Goodbye and good luck!"

They nodded to her, and turned away, heading south down the streets of Sheradon.

They hadn't been gone for ten seconds when Semaj appeared in the doorway and slid casually into the temple. "Hey! How ya doin'?"

She looked him over in alarm. "Now, what are you doing here?"

"Looking for you, of course," he said, puffing on a cigar and grinning broadly. "All right. Did you and Anwen get some bonding done?"

"No, she have left," Pelora said shortly. "And now if you excuse me, I have some horses to take care of."

Determined, she brushed past him and stepped out into the sunlight. Barely hesitating, she stepped into the street, passing by the northern gate of the city and heading straight to the plain wooden building just across the way.

Semaj was just one step behind her. "Is that a fact?" he said. "Now where, do you suppose, are _they_ going?" He gestured to the south with his cigar.

She ignored him, pushing open the door to the building. The place was a stable, boarding a number of horses as well as selling supplies for their care and travel. Walking down the rows of stalls, Pelora made eye contact with each horse she passed, most of them snorting and nickering as she came near. She did a double-take in alarm at one stable, which contained a giant purple lizard slightly larger than a horse.

At the end of the row were Poppy and Mertil, the two mares her family owned. Their coats gleamed like metal, and they eagerly pressed themselves against the edge of their stalls to get closer to Pelora.

Pelora became aware of Semaj, still lurking just behind her. "Why don't you run to your girlfriend, Anwen?" she said. "You seem to be fond of her." She stroked and patted the two horses.

"Do I detect some _jealousy_ over my interest in Anwen?" Semaj said in fascination, leaning against the walls of one stall, so far back that he was looking at her with his head upside-down. "Intriguing! Fear not—I have the exact same interest in you." He abruptly righted himself, sidled over to her, and presented her with a small card. "What if I told you I was trying to put a team together?"

"No, I am not jealous, as you put it," she said sharply. "And no thanks, I don't want to join a team. Who will care of my parents' horses if I'm gone? Going on an adventure is just some nasty, uncomfortable thing." She picked up a large comb hanging from the wall and proceeded to run it through Poppy's mane.

"'Alleviate suffering wherever you find it'," Semaj recited. "First commandment of Pelor. It's why your parents would rather run off on a mission than keep their old leash on you… and it's why teams of heroes are formed. I've got Anwen on board, and I just think you two would fit together so _well_ …"

She stared at him blankly, before turning her back on him, getting an apple from at table on the far end of the building, and offering it to Mertil.

A shadow blocked the door of the stable, catching the attention of Pelora and Semaj. It was Jepser, fully armored in his vestments; a golden chainmail cowl, and carrying his weapon of choice, a huge silver scythe. Lit from behind so powerfully that he was little more than a silhouette, he looked like a bringer of death.

"Mister Oklahim," he called out, stepping in so his features came into focus, using his scythe as a walking stick. "If I may, our friends the Newserges have asked me to keep an eye on Pelora, and have asked Pelora herself not to leave the temple except in the case of tending to the family's business here at the stable. A free spirit like Miss Ma'Sijor might be an apt fit for this 'team of heroes', but Pelora wouldn't do you much good except as a consultant."

Semaj nervously backed away from Jepser. "Is that so? The exalted Newserges said so, did they? And how much authority do a pair of priests hold over their _nineteen-year-old_ daughter?" He faced Pelora again as he enunciated the words.

"What do a simple adventurer like you care about a _nineteen-year-old cleric daughter_?" said Pelora, mimicking his odd emphasis. "I have devoted my life for the god of sun, Pelor, and I stand by my claim."

"I'm not an adventurer," he said. "Never was. That's why I need a team. You want to devote yourself to Pelor? You can sit in the temple and mop up people's household wounds, or you can bring the light of Pelor into the dark places of the world—commandment number two." He took another long draw on his cigar. "Think about it."

She faced him, fuming. "My parents are already bringing the light of Pelor to the darker sides of the world. And I don't mop up others' wounds in the temple always!"

He laughed cruelly. "So… your _parents_ are the ones who do the mission work… and you _don't_ heal people? Well then, you gotta ask yourself one question, Pelora: what do you actually _do?_ "

He left the stable, leaving a dramatic swirling trail of cigar smoke in his wake. Jepser watched him go while Pelora stood in silence.

After a few breaths, she gave one last gentle pat on the snout to both horses, and realized that Semaj had left his card atop one of the posts bordering the stalls. Hesitating for a long moment, she took it and tucked it into her robe.

Jepser took a few hobbling steps toward her. "I admire your devotion, I must admit," he said. "Many in your position would be craving adventure in the outside world."

"What good brings an adventure?" she said. "Only misfortune and death, as Father and Mother told me many times. I must do what I'm tasked to, but I wonder… what happens then afterwards? It's not like I will be lucky as my parents and found someone I want to spend the rest of my life with. Such thing will not happen."

"Oh, I wouldn't be too sure of that," Jepser said. "You meet lots of interesting people on healing duty… though who among them would old Sadron not shut out?" he muttered to himself. He tilted his head. "Do you know what happened? Why do they shut you inside so?"

Pelora shook her head. "No, I don't know. All I know is something truly horrible must've happened to my parents in the past. Perhaps it could've been one of the times we used to travel, but I don't remember at all."

He nodded, and pointed to the concealed card. "So… what are you going to do now?"

"I have no idea, actually," she admitted.

He gestured back toward the temple. "It's the end of a tenday, and the morning is upon us. Go and be among the faithful. Pray for the Shining One's guidance, and you shall receive."

Pelora nodded. "I will do that, High Priest. Perhaps the god of sun have some answers."

She walked past him, returning to the temple.

~0~0~0~

 **DM's Note:** _Given the ambitious and artistic crowds we run with, I've always had the assumption that we'll create a web-animation adaptation of the campaign someday. I picture it being quite similar to_ RWBY _in style and technique, but with an art style inspired by Disney instead of anime. Well, Disney with gruesome injuries and spectacular cheesecake. We'll, of course, need to get permission to use real D &D elements. I'd hate to have to change the names of all the gods and monsters._

 _It's beyond premature for me to muse about that sort of thing, of course. But I'm preparing for it, so we have something to go on to begin production as soon as the campaign ends. Which I hope will take less than a decade. Which it probably won't. But the longer it takes, the more likely it'll be that we actually have the means to make a cartoon. Hopefully, it'll have better fight scenes than this does. Really cool choreography built from the framework of the gameplay. Cool stuff._

 _That's kind of why there's no background or history in the narration, because the viewer of a visual medium would not get the benefit of such a context. So this story, like a script, is only passing on the information that such an audience would be able to immediately perceive. Ideally, there would have been a few more details in the dialogue by now, but most of the times when I placed the players in moments meant to cue them to explain an aspect of their backstory, they kind of… didn't. Lots of mentally reflecting on questions instead of answering them. Not ideal; I would've liked Anwen and Pelora to actually know a few things about each other by now, and you along with them, but the real explanations will come. You know, it's like anime: if you can hold all questions until the tenth episode, then they'll finally start to contextualize the world you've been hanging out in all this time. It'll work._


	4. Creepy Crawlers

**DM's Note:** _Well… the time has come to explain why we've been on hiatus for almost two years. Several reasons. We'd all started to have busy schedules again, lots of stuff going on. But mostly the break in the action happened because being the Dungeon Master drove me stark raving insane._

 _There were… communication errors, as I alluded earlier. For one, there was the aforementioned internal monologue, which combined with how long it took them to make even the tiniest decision, caused this material, meant to be done in two sessions, to take us four months of twice-weekly sessions to finish. Try to imagine that, and I'm sure you can sympathize when I say that I was eventually in tears every session._

 _Near the end, another problem came to a head. The characters were just so mean, so angry about everything, so determined to escape every situation I placed them in rather than engage with the story. No matter what I did, everything got the exact same response: the characters lashed out in fury and tried to get away. It was incredibly confusing and hurtful; I was sure that I had failed as a DM, that there was nothing I could do to satisfy or entertain anyone._

 _Only much later did it finally come to light what they were doing: they were deliberately playing their characters as overly disagreeable so they could have character development later down the road. Well, that kind of commitment can only be applauded, even if I think they went way too far with it. And having converted my transcripts of the campaign into this story, I've realized it wasn't as bad as I remember it being. But at the time, it just completely burned me out until I couldn't go on anymore._

 _The players… they know this, they saw it all happen. We're going to have a talk about it before we return, to make sure we're all on the same page and can do better._

~0~0~0~

 **WHIRLWIND**

 **Chapter 2: A Reason to Step Outside  
** **Episode 4: Creepy Crawlers**

" _Aren't they lovely, the crawling things of the world? See them take what they need, what is theirs."  
_ Karval Labine, tiefling necromancer, 58 years before the fall

~0~0~0~

Anwen reached the edge of the north gate district. The shift in neighborhoods from the north gate to the slums was painfully obvious, with the buildings and streets almost instantly becoming ill-maintained, dirty, and cracked.

Stopping at the boundary, she clutched at her stomach and brought a fist up to her mouth as her eyes turned back, toward the temple. "Just keep walking," she muttered to herself.

She stepped over the last bit of smooth stone into the dusty streets of the slums. She could see people, residents, wretches, curled up against walls, coughing raggedly; dressed in rags, tragically thin, many of these people were beyond the hope of returning to health.

Anwen stumbled, hissing as she turned back to the crack in the ground that had tripped her up. She took one last look around the ramshackle area before focusing her eyes straight forward. "Just get home, just get home…"

"Anwen!"

A small figure came running out of the depths of the slums—Sora, a thirteen-year-old half-elven girl. Though her hair was neatly cut short and her clothing a convincing facsimile of elaborate, expensive fashions, she was as grimy as the district itself, with dust in her hair, dirt under her fingernails, and scabs in several places.

"Anwen!" she said again, puffing for air as she came to a stop. "I've been looking for you everywhere. We need you!"

Anwen's hands were instantly on her weapon belt. "What happened? What's going on?"

"Our neighborhood is being attacked by—by giant bugs!" Sora gasped, her huge blue eyes widening.

Anwen gritted her teeth, almost losing her balance at the very thought. "How big are they?" she demanded. "Are there people still there?"

"People are hiding and running," said Sora. "Everyone is safe, I think… but they won't go away, they're digging through our trash and… and hunting… everyone's freaked out!"

"Got it!" Anwen called, rushing past her and toward the neighborhood, her weapons appearing in her hands as she ran.

"Whoa, whoa!" Sora cried out wildly. "All… all by yourself?"

"YES!" Anwen shouted. "I'll think of something…"

"There's like _thirty_ of them!" Sora shrieked. "We need to find other help!"

"No!" Anwen barked back, but nevertheless she slowed in her stride.

"Do you WANT to die?" Sora demanded. "Are you crazy, you out of your MIND?!" Her agitation emphasized her nasal lower-class accent.

Anwen stopped altogether, quivering in fear and uncertainty.

"Where have you been all night?" Sora urged. "What were you doing outside the district? There's gotta be someone else who can help us out with this!"

Anwen breathed deeply, calming herself. She looked over her shoulder, past Sora, back in the direction of the temple. Decisively, she sheathed her weapons once more. "Sora, I'm going to get help. Try to close off any further areas." She ran past the girl once again.

~0~0~0~

Anwen arrived back in sight of the temple. In the short time she had been away, she found the temple's doors had been thrown open to the public. Just outside the door, standing on the front steps, was Pelora.

Anwen stopped in her tracks, awestruck, at the sight of Pelora in her full vestments, now going through a sequence of simple but elegant twirls and jabs with her staff, sparring with an imaginary opponent.

From the patter of bare feet on the cobblestones behind her, it seemed that Sora had ignored Anwen's last order and followed her here to the temple. Sora raised her eyebrows at the sight of Pelora and nodded. "Nice choice!" she said, impressed.

"Pelora!" Anwen called, rushing up the temple stairs. "I need help. There's beasts in the slums. I can't do it alone. Please… people are in danger. Please."

Startled, Pelora turned to face Anwen. "What's going on?"

"Some giant bugs are loose in our neighborhood," Sora said casually, swaggering up the stairs. "Most people are safely tucked away in their homes, but… not everybody _has_ a home in our neighborhood." She turned to Anwen. "I never got a good look at them, but they're big and they're mean. I saw four, but it sounded like there might have been more of them. Sorry I exaggerated before, but I really, _really_ wanted to come back with someone who could actually help instead of someone who'd charge in and get herself killed." She smugly looked from one of them to the other, clearly proud of herself.

"What you mean is you want me to fight those?" Pelora said blankly, narrowing her eyes. "And how do I look like I do that on a daily basis? I'm a cleric and belongs to this temple. I hardly see how I can be to use."

"What?" Anwen said in disbelief. "There's giant bugs in a neighborhood, attacking innocents! You're just going to stand inside your cushy little temple because you're 'just a cleric'?" She brandished a fist, breathing raggedly. "I can't do this. I'd rather not do it alone, it wouldn't help." She lowered her eyes.

Pelora hesitated, her grip shifting nervously on her staff. Her gaze drifted to the inside of the temple, then out into the streets.

"Then so it'll be," she mumbled. She grasped her staff tightly and looked Anwen in the eye. "I will help you and save the innocents. But once this is over, I must return."

~0~0~0~

Fifteen minutes later, they arrived in Anwen's neighborhood, the little alcove of houses tucked away in the very corner of the city. The place was unnaturally still and empty—they could see only a few people, at least four, scattered to the edges, pressed up against the walls, hoping to avoid the wrath of the three small creatures who dominated the plaza: beetles the size of dogs, black with orange shells and glowing with inner light, were on the prowl.

One of them was digging through the compost heap which was crammed between two homes. Across the plaza, another had overturned a trash bin right by the northern wall. And in the middle, among three decaying picnic tables, the third beetle was feasting on the burnt corpse of an unidentifiable woman. As they watched, a scrawny, starved calico cat crept through the picnic area and attempted to join the beetle in partaking of the body, but the beetle promptly grabbed the cat in its mandibles and swallowed it whole before returning to the carrion.

"Oh no," Anwen said uneasily. Her fingers twitched and shook on the hilts of her weapons, and she shuddered and gulped, her stomach turning at the sight of the creatures. Jerkily turning back to Pelora, she said, "Be careful. They'll bite when threatened. And try to keep yourself hidden or shielded in some way."

"Monsters," Pelora hissed.

Sora patted them both on the back. "I'll, um… leave you guys to it, then," she said, all of her bravado gone as she backed away.

Anwen scanned what would become their battlefield. "I'm going to need you to go to the building near that beetle," she told Pelora, pointing her axe at the beetle by the compost pile. "Stay by the side of the building. I'll get its attention. If it starts its fire spray, you need to get the final blow, and… we'll figure it out from there."

Immediately after delivering this fragmented plan, she crept forward, her boots just skimming the ground without a sound. Alarmed, Pelora followed her, her chainmail rattling.

Anwen silently directed Pelora toward the nearest building, while she herself looped around to approach the beetle from the other side. Confused, Pelora crept forward and entered the building, concealing herself within.

Inside the dusty, single-room house, she found herself face to face with Atasha and Rhea, who stared at her in alarm. "What are you—?" Atasha exclaimed.

"There are beasts outside your home," Pelora said simply. Considering the question, she added, "And I'm a half-elven cleric, if you must know." She stepped closer to them, examining their features curiously.

Outside, Anwen sighed at Pelora's misunderstanding, but brushed it off. Focusing a keen eye, she took in every detail of the beetle's anatomy, searching for weak spots. Satisfied, she threw herself upon the beetle and hacked at it with her axe at its tough shell. Anwen winced. "Eww…" she muttered, her hands shaking.

"I can see that," Atasha said condescendingly. "And we know about the bugs, that's why we're at home. Get your own hiding place!"

Pelora gawked at them, looking over their armored clothing and the sword across Atasha's back. "I am sorry for my intrusion," she snipped, "and while I'm here to await further instructions to defeat the threat, I apologize to interrupt your very important conversation." She turned her back to the pair and cracked the door open, peering out to try and spot Anwen.

Anwen saw her and hissed, "If you hear me, I need you to go quick and strike it from behind. We're going to need to confuse it, so we need to each take a side—whichever it chooses to target, the other has to follow from behind."

Pelora stepped out of the house and grasped at the sun symbol on her necklace. Her hand glowed with magic, and from the center of her holy symbol, a blinding beam of while light streaked toward the flailing beetle, missing it and scorching the cobblestones.

Seeming to recover from its writhing in pain, the beetle turned to Anwen and bit her ankle, its mandibles clamping down on her boot. Anwen yelled, shaking it off her leg, and struck at it with both her axe and scimitar, giving it an oozing gash on its side.

From beneath one of the picnic tables, a hidden creature emerged and flew toward them on four leathery, batlike wings. It was a stirge, and it resembled a reptilian mosquito, with rough brown skin and beady red eyes. Setting on Anwen's back, it attempted to dig the pointy tip of its long, curved beak into her neck.

Blood rushing to her face, Pelora stepped forward and struck at the beetle with her staff. "HAH!" she shouted as the beetle's exoskeleton crunched beneath the strength of her blow and its legs buckled, yellow guts bubbling out of the fatal wound. "Ew!" she squeaked, jumping backward.

"What the fuck?" Anwen noted faintly as she strained and twisted to get the creature off her back. As she spun around to face it, it backed away and hovered before her, evading strikes from both of her weapons.

After weaving through her two attacks, it took another jab at her. This time, its piercing appendage entered just above her heart, and it latched itself to her with its four spindly legs.

"Damn damn damn damn damn," Pelora said frantically, scampering to Anwen's side in a rush to aid her. Anwen heaved back and forth, attempting to hit the clamped creature with her axe while shuddering and shaking, growing faint as it drained her of blood.

Cringing at the sight, Pelora stepped around Anwen and grasped her staff tightly, trying to aim it for a strike. "O Pelor," she muttered wildly, "you great and mighty lord of sun, please aid me and my friend to defeat these beasts and save the innocents." She swung her staff, but the attack went wide.

The stirge took another hideous draw of Anwen's veins, causing her blood to spatter all over her chest. Squeezing the creature between her two fists, Anwen yanked at it and shoved it away, breaking free of its grasp, and with two quick steps she slashed at it with her scimitar.

Shooting upwards, it hovered for a moment, then abruptly spun in place and jabbed at Pelora, its beak tapping vainly against her chainmail. Ignoring it, Pelora waved a hand at Anwen. With a little burst of magical energy, the wound on Anwen's chest sealed itself, healing completely. Satisfied, Pelora struck the stirge with all her might, her staff whacking the side of its head, leaving it bloody.

Feeling at the healed wound on her chest, Anwen narrowed her eyes and once again took two swipes at the creature. It corkscrewed up through the air before unfurling its wings again, with the aim of fleeing over the roof of the low, plain building. They both swung at it desperately, but did not halt its flight, and it disappeared.

"Damn!" said Pelora, stomping a foot. She sighed, glaring angrily at the rooftop where the stirge lurked out of sight.

Anwen absently grasped at her bloodied chest, where the wound had been. Dismissing her thoughts, she rubbed her temples to focus herself, and faced Pelora, gesturing to the beetle among the picnic tables. "We need to keep going."

Pelora nodded and looked to the beetle. Enraged at the sight of it and the corpse it was still feasting upon, she instantly shot another beam of light at it. The beetle recoiled, chittering angrily, and charged straight at Pelora, its bright orange mandibles gnashing. With a high-pitched squeak of fear, Pelora danced around its attempts at biting her. Anwen took a step forward and carefully aimed a scimitar to stab it right in a gap in its armor.

Following through, Pelora whacked it on the back of its head. Faced with both of them in close quarters, the beetle spread its mandibles wide, and glowing liquid bubbled up from within its throat.

"Ew!" Pelora exclaimed, staring.

From the beetle's maw came an erratic spray of tiny fireballs, enveloping them.

"AAH!" Pelora screamed.

Anwen evaded the spray and hacked at the bug with her axe, leaving an oozing wound on its left flank. Pelora stepped backward to better aim her next beam of light, but for the third time, her aim was off, and it left a blackened mark in a picnic table instead.

The beetle lunged at Anwen, its mandibles lacerating her calf muscle. Barely acknowledging this critical injury, Anwen swung both of her weapons down mightily, slicing the beetle into three equal pieces. Pelora winced.

Shaking the dead beetle's head off of her leg, Anwen turned to Pelora, inspecting her burns. "I don't think there's many left," she said encouragingly. "The stirge is still out there, but I don't know where. We got to get this one… and if there's more still, I'll do everything I can to make sure you won't get hurt." She scanned the area, her eyes settling on the last beetle that remained in sight. "I'll take it from the front, try to keep its target on me. You need to try your best to hit it and we'll finish it together."

Not comprehending, Pelora merely nodded.

Anwen charged at the beetle by the northern wall, Pelora following close behind. Anwen slashed it from back to front, while Pelora shot it with a light beam, this one finally hitting its mark, leaving a sizzling hole in the beetle's shell and causing its entire body to glow white, making it an easier target.

The beetle whirled on Anwen and attempted to bite her, stumbling in its haste. Anwen shot Pelora a congratulatory grin and she chopped downward at the bug, causing its yellow innards to splatter everywhere. Pelora charged into close range and cracked it over the head with her staff.

As its companion had, the moment it was faced with a second enemy the beetle unleashed its spray of fire, and as before, Anwen spun to evade the spray while Pelora took it full blast, taking the tiny fireballs to her face and chest. Anwen sliced the beast open with her axe, by this point almost able to ignore the spill of bright yellow guts.

Pelora looked down at her body, covered as it was in little burn marks. Muttering a prayer, she cast a healing spell on herself, clearing up every one of her injuries with a small flash of light. Anwen looked her over, and they shared a smile.

It didn't last long before a bloodcurdling scream rang out over the plaza. It came from a familiar back alley, off in the direction the stirge had flown off to, and was accompanied by an odd, electrical buzzing sound.

"What was that?!" Pelora exclaimed.

"I don't know," said Anwen, her eyes narrowed in that direction. "We've got to help, if you're still up for it."

They ran across the plaza, Anwen outpacing Pelora and reaching the mouth of the alley in seconds. As soon as she reached it, a body fell, dead from blood less at the sucking organ of the wounded stirge, which turned its beady eyes toward her as it hovered in place.

"Oh gods," Anwen said mildly, futilely swinging her sword at the flying beast. "Oh _gods_ ," she said again in horror as she looked past the stirge to the source of the strange buzz: a purple scorpion as large as a man, its bright blue claws crackling with electricity as it zapped the life out of yet another slums resident, with a third corpse already splayed out in the alley beside it.

Pelora caught up to Anwen, cast a judgmental glare and the stirge and almost casually zapped it with a light beam, slicing its chest open and killing it. Looking past Anwen, she saw the scorpion, and grasped Anwen's arm in terror. The giant beast unceremoniously dropped its victim and turned to face them, making an eerie clicking noise as its mandibles twitched.

"It's a stormclaw scorpion," Pelora whispered, noticing that Anwen was completely dumbfounded. "How odd… they usually live and hunt in the deserts, but why would it come to a city? In daylight, no less?"

The scorpion approached Anwen and reached for her with its claws. She parried its claws with her axe and sword, averting her eyes from the sickening sight of its face, and struck back, only for it to use its claws to deflect her weapons. Furious, she pushed harder. Pelora grasped her staff tightly, stepped over the body of the stirge's victim, and swung her staff, the big metal symbol at the staff's head cracking against the back of the scorpion's head. "I hit it!" she said in surprise.

The scorpion lunged again, both of its claws grasping at Anwen's upper arms and squeezing them tightly. Struggling, she managed to nick it with her axe, leaving a line of vibrant blue blood down its back. She flexed desperately and, unable to extricate herself from its claws, hit it with her axe again, nicking its claw.

Pelora stepped forward nervously, aiming her holy symbol. "Please, don't kill her," she mumbled. "Here we go…" She shot a light beam, which streaked across Anwen's chest. Anwen cried out and glared at Pelora.

"I'm sorry!" Pelora squeaked.

Anwen mumbled something under her breath, uselessly kicking at the scorpion.

Pelora flinched. "Maybe if I try something else… take this!" She raised her staff to the sky, and a burst of divine energy expanded outward, washing over them, healing Anwen and causing the scorpion to quiver with sudden exhaustion. Her holy symbol began to glow.

The scorpion squeezed Anwen, causing electricity to course through her body. Pulling her a bit closer, it jammed its sharp stinger tail into her stomach. The veins in her stomach suddenly bulged and turned deep blue as it pumped poison into her, and she passed out. Pelora said a prayer over her staff, and it glowed white as she swung it, but glanced off the scorpion's shell, the light dissipating uselessly.

The scorpion zapped Anwen's unconscious body yet again—then, peculiarly, it dropped her, leaving her just as it had left its other two victims, and began to wander away.

"What the…" Pelor murmured. Shaking her head sharply, she knelt over Anwen and attempted to resuscitate her, to no avail. "Argh!" she yelled, punching the alley wall in frustration. She stood up and faced the retreating scorpion. "You'll pay for this!"

She grasped her holy symbol. "You shall burn!" she shouted.

White fire enveloped the scorpion's body, and it shrieked as its exoskeleton crackled and its flesh sizzled, swaying for a moment before it coiled around itself and died.

Anwen opened her eyes, seeing a fuming Pelora standing over her, gazing at the corpse of the scorpion. Looking around, she saw the bodies of her neighbors, and got to her feet as quickly as she could, too quickly as she immediately had to grasp her head. Working through it, she stepped over to Pelora. "Are you okay?"

Pelora turned to face her. "I'm somewhat okay, I think. So much dead… does these things happen often in the outside world?"

Anwen sighed. "I don't know. I've never had to deal with something like this." She turned away. "The most I've had to deal with are just a couple of thugs… I don't even know if _they_ had to deal with this…" She turned back to Pelora, nervously rubbing her hands together as she looked down at the bodies. "This shouldn't have happened," she said sadly, picking her weapons off the ground and sheathing them.

The pair of them could hear an outpouring of activity from the neighborhood as people began emerging from their tightly-packed homes.

Anwen shivered, and she pressed herself against the alley wall, staying out of sight. "Pelora, we've got to go tell them it's safe… at least for now. We're gonna need help to get them out." She gestured to the bodies around them. "You were great and I'm sorry if this is too much." She offered Pelora her hand.

"Don't worry," said Pelora. "I will help." She took Anwen's hand and they proceeded to leave the alley together and come out into the open.

"It'll be okay," Anwen muttered, more to herself than Pelora. Biting her lip, she took a deep breath and spoke in a clear voice. "O-okay, I… I just want to say the creatures have been vanquished and for now it… it's safe." She winced and took another deep breath. "However, I know some weren't so lucky in finding cover for the attack and so I… we're going to need help in identifying, if you know someone that was outside during the attack or hasn't made it back to their home I'm going to need for you to come with us." Not convinced of her own words, she turned back to Pelora.

Two among the scattered residents had ventured farther out into the open than any of the others, seemingly already on the task Anwen had described, examining the fire beetle in the picnic area and the scorched woman it had been feeding on.

"I think it's just her," said Heather, a half-elven woman, sadly examining the body. "Unless… are there others? Others who didn't make it, I mean?"

Anwen lowered her head. "I'm afraid there are," she said, pointing Heather toward the alley.

Grimly, Heather strode toward them, flinching when she spotted the dead scorpion. "Three back here," she called to her husband, Marcus.

"Four dead," Marcus muttered. "These creatures were unnaturally aggressive. Someone must have starved them and set them loose here. If not for you and your friend, we probably would have lost a lot more than four people… Thank you, Anwen. We've always known that you were brave and stubborn, but never that you were so… capable. We were right to send Sora looking for you."

Anwen stepped back instantly, her face flushing red. "I—I think the one you should be thanking more is Pelora. She's the one who took them down, I just… helped."

Pelora waved awkwardly. "Um… hello. I'm Pelora and I'm from the temple of Pelor… over there." She pointed south, in entirely the wrong direction. "My parents are the Newserges, if you know who they… are…"

Marcus looked interested. "Indeed. Well, many thanks, priestess. You honor our little borough with your presence as much as your heroics." He bowed. A plump and brown-skinned half-elf, his well-spoken diction was carefully cultivated.

"Everyone…" he called out to the neighborhood. "Everyone, help me gather the bodies. Of our neighbors _and_ of the monsters." He kicked a beetle's body. "The rich folks on the other side of the city, they think they're so great for dining on shrimp and lobster every day—well, it's nothing compared to what we'll make of these beasts! We have meat for the whole neighborhood here. Let's make a grand feast of it, and a memorial for those we've lost."

Anwen winced, repulsed at the thought, but offered Marcus a winning smile. "Pelora, I think we should get you back to the temple."

Pelora nodded. "Ah, yes, I must go back to the temple before everyone gets worried about me."

At that moment, Atasha burst out of her house. "Did somebody say feast?" she said, feigning a yawn and stretching. "Oh boy, what did we miss?"

Rhea trailed behind her, smirking. "What are you trying to pull?" she snorted. "Nobody'th gonna buy that, everybody knowth eladrin don't thleep."

"Well, they do now, jackass," Atasha hissed.

Anwen narrowed her eyes and marched over to Atasha. "You two were here the whole time. You could've done something! You let innocent people get killed!" Her voice strained, she did her best to get in Atasha's face; not an easy prospect, as Atasha was much taller. "You hid in the safety of your home when people were out there, begging for help."

She clenched a fist, and Atasha's hand went to the hilt of her sword. Furious, Anwen threw her hands down at her sides, turning around to rejoin Pelora.

"I know those," said Pelora, walking past Anwen to approach the two of them. "You were the two rude people. Now I see the ugly side of this district, and for once, it's not even some beetles. I guess being heartless is more monster than those beasts we fought."

Atasha scoffed at her. "I… you can't…" she stammered. "Don't… don't call me a bad person! _You're_ a bad person!" She whirled and stormed back to her house, Rhea loyally remaining in step.

"You're a jackath," Rhea whispered.

"You can't even _say_ jackass," Atasha snapped back.

Anwen joined Pelora, smirking. "You didn't have to do that, you know. I'm glad you did, though." She looked to the east, toward Pelora's home. "You… would you like to maybe stay a little longer? To survey the area or maybe just talk…" She looked away, embarrassed.

"I don't know…" Pelora said anxiously. "I should head back to the temple, I told the high priest that I was only going to the stables to care for my parents' horses. But I reckon it would be terribly rude to turn down an offer, right?"

Most of the citizens were following Marcus's instructions, laying the four killed citizens on the ground side-by-side, and tearing apart the bodies of the monsters. One woman, however, shuffled toward Pelora: an elderly woman with frizzy white hair, shriveled arms, a hunched posture, and one milky, unfocused eye.

"Priestess," she rasped. "You have saved the world and fulfilled your destiny."

"Um, Grandma?" a young man behind her said uncertainly.

"In thanks, take this lovely pearl and the blessings of all the good gods," the old woman went on, offering Pelora a tiny pink pearl.

Pelora held out her hand and accepted the gift. "Thank you, and may Pelor bless you," she said, pleased, pocketing the pearl and thinking over the woman's words.

"Grandma?!" the young man squawked. He was plain-looking, but strong and rugged, solidly built and half-covered in mud. "You've had that pearl all along? And… and you gave it away?!" He stared longingly at Pelora's pocket. "We could have gotten a hundred crowns for that thing…" He looked Pelora in the eye. "You're like a cleric or something, right?"

"Yes, I'm a cleric and resides in the temple of Pelor," she said nervously. "Ironically, my name is Pelora." She chuckled.

He sighed. "Well… gods know you _did_ save lives today. It's not like any real authorities would have showed up." He turned his back on her. "Fine then… keep the pearl."

Pelora frowned. "Excuse me, are you especially attached to this pearl? In that case, I'm sorry if I have it in my possession." She fumbled for it, trying to retrieve it.

Anwen brought a palm to her face.

"Keep it," the young man said dismissively, walking out of sight. His grandmother walked around with an airy expression, staring off into space.

Heather looked around fretfully, scanning the crowds. She was an unattractive, bone-thin woman, her clothes torn and tattered. "Sora!" she called.

Sora emerged from the hiding place she had picked out at the start of the battle, and rushed toward Heather. "Mom!" she chirped, hugging her. "Mom, did you see Anwen? Did you see her make mincemeat of those monsters?"

Anwen took Pelora aside, leading her away from the old grandmother. "Look, Pelora, while you did great things and deserve major thanks for protecting these people, you—" She looked around and sighed, fidgeting with her hands. "Look, you can't, or really you shouldn't, accept gifts from here. They don't _have_ enough. Th-they are really lacking in… valuables. They don't have the luxuries you have."

"But I could've given it back," Pelora said, wounded. "And I surely don't live in luxury! We clerics live quite simple, you know. But I think I understand your point." She sighed, looking down at her feet calmly. "I don't understand. Why didn't any authority came to help these people? And what did they meant with the rich people with lobsters? Doesn't they help if they have so much money?"

"No," Anwen said wearily, almost amused. "They don't help. No one does. No one cares about our part here… the only guard here who even cares about whether they live or die… is me!" She snarled harshly.

"Hey, sometimes one is all ya need!" said Sora, sidling up and leaning against Anwen.

Anwen yelped and jumped away. "Where did you come from?" she demanded.

"You're amazing!" Sora went on, undeterred. "Working two weapons at once, spinning and weaving, you're like a… like a whirlwind!"

"I… I wouldn't say I was that great," said Anwen, flinching away from Sora's touch.

"Oh, I like the sound of that," someone else said. "A whirlwind… I approve." It was Semaj, approaching from the west triumphantly.

Pelora crossed her arms. "You again?" she snapped. "What are you doing here? Don't you have others to bother?"

Anwen twitched and lowered herself into a combat stance, ready to pounce. "I swear by all the gods if you came to tell us that you planned this, then you're a dead man!"

Semaj stopped in his tracks, looking from one of them to the other with disbelief. "And I thought half-elves were supposed to have people skills," he muttered, seething. "I'd just like somebody to trust me for once in my life… I've done _nothing_ to provoke suspicion." He clasped his hands behind his back and spoke loudly and clearly, his voice steeped in resentment. "Times aren't so dark that a giant bug attack on the slums district goes unnoticed. You ladies ought to consider doing this for a living."

He tossed a small object to Anwen, some sort of leather belt. Anwen caught it, and at the sight of it her breath caught in her throat. At the center of the thick leather strap was a pair of crystalline ice-blue eyepieces.

Shaking, she looked back up at Semaj. "Go ahead and say it," she said tensely.

"You recognize those, don't you?" he said, pleasantly surprised and as smug as ever. "Found them in my basement. When I knew them, your parents kept a lot of their old adventuring gear at my house. I've been looking for it. Your mother had a lot of, ah, cranium accessories, and that one was her most valuable—I had it appraised at three hundred grand. Put those eyepieces over your eyes and no illusion or shapeshifter can fool you. Check out the engraving."

Anwen raised an eyebrow and turned over the headband. Engraved in the crystal of the eyepiece was the name _Rachael Turnbuckle_.

"A gift from me to you," Semaj said graciously.

She brought a hand to her forehead and glared at him. "Why?" she said bluntly.

"Because they're yours," he said. "I'm not sure why she left it behind. Maybe on some level she thought she might not make it back, and wanted to leave something special behind. 'Cause everything else they brought along when they went to fight fire giants or wherever it is they were going… priceless treasures, probably lost forever. Rolen had a bow made of pure elemental ice. His arrows could freeze a man where he stood. And your mom, she fought with an axe and sword, just like you do, 'cept her sword was a rapier instead of a scimitar. Much fancier." He turned his eyes downward sadly.

Anwen looked down at the headband, tracing over the engraving. Sighing with regret, she relaxed her body, looked back at Semaj, and nodded to him. "I see," she said. "Thanks."

He lifted his head, and she was surprised to see actual tears in his eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry you had to be on your own for eight years. That's how long it took me to… to break out of the funk I was in." He brushed his eyes with a hand. "They were very special to me."

Fuming, she looked away from him. "I'm… sorry," she said reluctantly.

"Ah… none of that matters now," he said, easily smiling. "You're here, I'm here. We can put together that band of heroes I've been talking about! Whirlwind. That's what they'll call us." He winked at Sora, who smiled appreciatively.

Anwen's face fell. Squeezing the headband, she turned her back on him completely. "Whatever."

In response, Semaj lit a cigar. "You're a strange person," he observed, puffing. "I don't know what the heck I ever did to you, but we'll work it out. I've got some feelers out… looking for other team members, or people who need a hero, what-have-you… we'll set up a base of operations at my place, and you, my dear, will be our amazing leader."

Pelora, meanwhile, was taking slow, sidelong strides away from them, trying to slip out of the neighborhood unnoticed.

Sora skidded across the cobblestones to block her path. "Eeeeyy, where are you going? You need to be part of the celebration! We're having a feast in your honor, don't try to crabwalk your way out of it." She spun Pelora around, intending to push her back toward the picnic area.

Pelora slammed the butt of her staff against the ground. "ENOUGH!" she roared, her face going red.

"Pelora!" Anwen exclaimed, looking wildly from her to Sora. "What are you doing? You guys okay? You can't—you shouldn't—eerrrrgh!" She whirled on Semaj. "You think I can be a leader to a team? I just lost control over a girl who's been raised to be nothing but obedient! If I can't handle one half-elf how in the gods' names am I supposed to lead anyone?"

Semaj had no answer, only looked back at her with his cigar held to his lips. Sora, meanwhile, looked very tiny, hunched over defensively under the force of Pelora's outburst, her eyes huge and quivering. "Did I do something wrong?" she peeped.

Anwen looked at each of them, sweating and breathing heavily. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I just can't!" She ran, swiftly leaving them all behind. Pelora nodded, turning back toward the neighborhood exit.

Sora looked from one direction to the other, at Anwen on her way to a nearly-demolished apartment building, and Pelora slowly making her way back to the temple.

Pelora hesitated. Sora pounced on the opportunity and ran to her side. "Miss… um… priestess? Miss Priestess? What's going on? Why don't either of you like this… this hero idea?"

"Is it my true fate to stay at the temple?" Pelora said to no one. "Or is it to protect the unfortunate people no one seems to care of? …I guess I would like to know what I'm truly meant for." She looked at Sora. "Without any tricks or lies, I suppose."

"Great," Sora said blankly, pulling at Pelora's hand. "Help me get Anwen? I think she ran back to, uh… back to her apartment. We need her here, this is like a party for her…" She eyed the four bodies that had been lain down together. "Sad party. But still."

"Yeah…" Pelora said faintly, heartbroken. "Sad party, indeed…"

~0~0~0~

Two five-story apartment buildings stood against the eastern wall of the city, just south of the gazebo. They had been empty for some time, long-decayed and now partially collapsed.

Anwen entered the lobby of one of the buildings through the huge hole where the front door and wall had once been. As the stairs were collapsed, a wooden ladder of her own construction leaned against a wall, leading up through a hole in the ceiling to the second floor. Anwen ascended this ladder, leading up to the small room where she lived.

It was almost entirely unfurnished, containing only a hammock, a mirror, and a few sentimental possessions. Boots back on the floor, Anwen exhaled deeply and stripped off her armor, dropping it to the floor, before tossing aside her weapon belt.

Something snapped and clattered. Wincing, Anwen turned. She had inadvertently tossed her weapon belt right at the old bow leaning against the wall, and one of the weapons had snapped the bowstring.

She raced to it. Tears came to her eyes as she held up the broken bow and the goggles Semaj had given her. She dropped both of the objects and crossed the room to the hammock, sobbing.

Back on the first floor, Sora led Pelora into the building and put a hand on a rung of the ladder. She lifted herself up one rung, then stopped and dropped back down, instead calling up, "Anwen? Are you okay?"

Anwen dropped into the hammock, wiping her tears away. "Leave me alone!" she called.

Silently, Pelora gently ushered Sora aside and ascended the ladder herself. Gingerly, she stepped onto the floor and looked down at Anwen. "Look, I was acting out of my element," she said. "All of us are confused and lost, I guess. But what both of us need is a friend to depend on, and certainly not some weirdo telling us to go out and be heroes."

Anwen said nothing.

"It's maybe not always easy," Pelora continued, "and this is the first time I have seen real death and peril. But I would try to protect the people you care about, those who are forgotten and ignored by others. I will try to help, if I can."

Sora reached the top of the ladder and reached out a hand to Anwen. "Party?" she said simply, smiling.

Anwen lifted herself up, letting her feet touch the ground. "I'm sorry," she said, not looking at either of them. "I was scared, I didn't know what to do…" She stood up, looked over them both, and clasped Pelora's hand. "Let's go."

~0~0~0~

In a fire pit near the picnic area, a huge black pot full of meat from all five monsters was simmering. Marcus, stirring the pot, nodded to Anwen, Pelora, and Sora as they approached, taking little bowls of the stew and making their way to a free table. The four citizens who had died in the attack had been wrapped in mismatched bundles of cloth and set atop a pyre.

Anwen took a seat, biting her lip. "It smells good," she said absently. "The bugs, I mean…" She chuckled.

"Is it normal to eat bugs here?" Pelora asked, poking at the stew with a large wooden spoon. "Such an interesting custom it is, for this district. Not that I complain."

"Not really," Anwen said quickly. "It's more like scraping what you have in order to get by. Bugs this size don't come here often for us to use as a meal." She looked around at the other residents, enthusiastically eating the remains of the creatures, the overall atmosphere fairly light and cheerful. "Honestly, this is probably going to be the best meal they'll have for a long time…"

"You poor things!" Pelora exclaimed. "You mean you never had… meat from pigs? Isn't there fruits and vegetables? Not even bread?"

"Aw, it's not like that," Sora chirped. "It's just a hop, skip, and a jump to the lake district! We can buy their scraps." She laughed, harsh and fake.

"What is the lake district?" Pelora asked. Suddenly recalling something, she pulled a few cherries out of her pocket and set them out on the table. "Tell me more about this town."

Anwen rubbed the back of her neck anxiously. "Well… let's start with the lake district, that's set up around Lake Euvara, which is probably the easiest place for us to get food." She gestured around at the neighborhood. "However, it's also pretty dangerous to go if you aren't prepared or don't know where to go. So it's best not to go alone. Well… you know about the slums district here now, and your temple in the north gate.

"West of here and the north gate is the nobility district, basically think of how great your home in the temple is and triple the wealth and luxuries that you have. The government district, that mostly caters to the rich and influential like those in the nobility. On the upside we're more or less on equal level in the graveyard district by the time we die.

"The mercantile district is probably the most active as there's tons of things going on, though I usually only go there if I have enough coin for a weapon. I'm good, I just… anyways, the south gate is pretty much always moving with people trying to get to one place or the other or stopping for the night at one of the inns. Finally, there's the river district, which is pretty nice from what I hear and fares better than the lake district, though quite the ways away from here."

Pelora was stunned. "If this town is so big, then rest of the world must be huge!" A chunk of meat dropped from her spoon back into the bowl.

"Pelora, calm down," said Anwen, grabbing Pelora's arm to steady it. "Yeah… possibly."

Semaj appeared, standing over them and bearing his own bowl of stew. "May I?" he said, gesturing to an empty seat. Heather came around the table and took a seat next to Sora.

"I guess?" said Pelora, blushing.

He sat beside her, fiddling with a giant wooden spoon the same way he normally did with a cigar. "This is a big city indeed," he said unashamedly. "And a big world… and there's quite the handful of worlds. Hey, just think of it a little bit at a time. You saved the neighborhood, maybe next year you save the district, and the year after that the whole city! Whatever it takes to save the world a little bit at a time. Anywhere in the universe is within walking distance if you've got the time." He winked, aiming it squarely at Pelora.

Pelora stared back at him, her jaw slack. "The universe… it sounds a bit far-fetched," she said with a nervous grin.

Anwen raised an eyebrow at the two of them. "I'm game," she said with a smirk, fidgeting.

Averting her eyes from the two of them, Anwen's gaze drifted to the gazebo, the very place where she had taken cover from the masked arcanist… and there he was. Standing on the roof of the gazebo in broad daylight, in his black cloak and skull mask, was the very man who had killed her, gazing out over the celebration.

He jumped off the gazebo rooftop, landing elegantly on the ground, and slowly approached the table. "Oklahim," he called out, his voice soft but carrying.

Semaj jumped in surprise and looked around wildly before spotting him. He forced a smile, his eye twitching. "Oh, hey… Bone Mask Guy. Uh, now's not really the time…"

"No, it isn't," the masked man agreed. "But I've lost patience. I'm done telling your story. I've enacted these 'training exercises' for your team… now I will have my payment."

"Exercises?!" Anwen said shrilly, standing up. "You mean you sent him to kill me!" She sneered before facing the masked man, drawing her scimitar. "Never mind… you here for a rematch?"

"I've no quarrel with you, ranger," he said dismissively. "I only needed the coin." He stepped right up to the table and held out his hand to Semaj expectantly.

"Ruining. Everything," Semaj said weakly.

"And yet you'll pay me anyway. Because I'm _bored_."

"What the hell is going on, _Semaj_?" Anwen growled.

"You paid that man to kill Anwen…?" Pelora exclaimed. "You're terrible, how could you even live with yourself? You knew her parents, they trusted you, and you… you just sold her to death! We fought all we could to save her because we thought you were kind and tried to save her!" Wildly, she ducked down to the ground and picked up a small rock, standing up and tossing it at Semaj's chest. "Leave! You don't deserve anything! Not even to live, if you treat a life carelessly!"

She turned to the masked man. "And you! You leave people alone! You're nothing more than a pathetic excuse for humanity! Take your gold and shove it up your rectum. You will LEAVE AND NEVER RETURN AGAIN!" She raised her staff, pointing it at his face.

Still shocked, Semaj remained seated, staring down at the table. "Why are you doing this?" he rasped.

The masked man casually batted Pelora's staff aside with his own. "You should be thanking me," he said mockingly. "I'm an honest man! I simply couldn't bear to help Oklahim maintain his charade." He chuckled. "Isn't that just a knife to the heart, though? He hired me to ambush and kill you last night so he could be the kindly benefactor who brought you back to life. He hired me to orchestrate this attack on your neighborhood so you could rise to the challenge. You swallowed his entire scheme. How does it feel to be so thoroughly played, elflings?"

Pelora threw another rock at his face. His sleepy brown eyes widened in surprise from behind his mask.

"If you're so tough, why don't you fight this little 'elfling' then?" said Pelora. "No filthy gold and no tricks, only pure honor!"

"Do I _really_ need to tell you you don't want to do that?" he whispered. "I've already killed the ranger once."

Anwen extended her sword arm, separating Heather and Sora from the confrontation, and put her free hand on Pelora's staff. "Pelora, no," she said calmly. "We need to think and talk calmly about this. We need to go somewhere else."

"Not without my money," the masked man growled.

Semaj was rocking back and forth, sweating. "Had to prove my point," he muttered. "No harm was done. Four deaths, but that's hardly my fault."

"I'm _really_ trying to save your ass, Semaj, and you're making it really, _really_ hard for me to not want him kicking it," Anwen snarled. "How much of this is your fault?!"

Semaj lifted his head, glaring at her, and abruptly stood up, slamming his hands down on the table. "I was just trying to prove a point," he snapped. "Darkness really _is_ brewing in this town!" He pointed at Pelora. "Even _she_ knows it and they keep her locked up! I mean, for starters there's _this_ guy, just look at him, don't try to tell me he's not up to something evil!"

"Indeed," the man said pleasantly. "And I expect to be paid for it."

Semaj produced a sack of coins and slammed it into the man's hands. "If it makes you shut up and go away," he said furiously.

"Excellent! I'll be on my way then." He began walking away leisurely. "Oh, and ranger? Don't think that you might have better luck facing me a second time. You will not be so lucky again. I suggest you stay out of my way."

He turned his back to them and, muttering a small spell, ran away at an impossible speed, his legs blurring. Semaj sat down again, lowering his face.

Pelora bent over him, looking deeply into his face. He looked profoundly sad, staring off at nothing in particular, as though dwelling on a far-off tragedy.

"You never meant anyone to die or get hurt, did you?" she said hopefully. "Surely you wouldn't want harm an innocent person? That masked guy was just some mistake, right?"

"Bone Mask Guy is a very bad person," he replied. "I don't… usually work with him. But… I've never known why, but no one ever trusts me. I thought showing you the bad things in the world would be more convincing than telling you. All I wanted was to make heroes out of you. As great as… as the heroes I lost eight years ago. I'm sorry."

Anwen continued to stare in the direction where the masked man had left. She sheathed her weapon and flexed her hands, not looking back at the conversation. "Now what?" she muttered, her lips thinning. "Pelora? What do you want? I'll help you with whatever you may need…"

"I think…" Pelora began, before pausing and mulling it over. She looked out over the entire neighborhood before focusing once again on those there at the table. "I know what most people say about me, but I must confess something. I carry on a name from the god of sun, but I'm not a hero or has special powers. But if the world is in danger because of evil forces I don't understand yet… then I'm willing to defend it, if I can."

~0~0~0~

 **DM's Note:** _The name "Whirlwind" originated in the campaign's first run. Semaj asked Anwen and Pelora to come up with a team name, which I explained would also serve as a title for the story. Days passed and they didn't come up with anything, so I came up with "Whirlwind" myself, pulling it out of thin air and then pretending, via adaptation, that they came up with it by twirling their weapons around while trying to think._

 _It proved popular, so I went ahead and gave the reboot that title right away, and figured it would work if I took the approach that most stories that aren't RPGs do, having the team name thrust upon the characters rather than chosen by them. I hope I'm nurturing the players into being able to start taking charge of things like that on their own. The incredibly creative and passionate minds, voracious writers, and skilled roleplayers I hang out with suddenly become bizarrely bereft of ideas once it's time to play D &D, but perhaps that's my fault. It often becomes clear that I haven't adequately explained the universe we're playing in._

 _Once the events of this chapter were over, I wasn't quite ready to give up yet, so I asked McKenzie and Nathalie what they wanted from Chapter 3. The plan is to pose this question every chapter and try to fit their personal goals in with my own plans. Some chapters, including Chapter 3, will be freeform chapters, left blank on my campaign plan with the intent of constructing their plots entirely around the players' ideas. Nathalie had no ideas, but McKenzie suggested that the chapter be about exploring the nine districts of the city of Sheradon, which she had exposited earlier. I thought that was a fantastic idea, but, since the information I'd passed on to Anwen so she could exposit such was the entire extent of all the world-building I had ever done, I knew I'd need time to prepare, to give them a full city to explore._

 _I decided to break up the action by running a brief_ 13th Age _one-shot, bringing in a couple of other friends. What was intended to be a short, relaxing interlude took about two months, was one of the worst experiences of my life, and I don't want to talk about it. Nobody's fault. By early 2017, I had given up, sure that I was a fool to have ever tried running an RPG in the first place._

 _Because to tell the truth, I have seldom known being the DM to be anything but a lonely, soul-crushing task of torturously hard work that's not worth the payoff. So what keeps bringing me back to it, year after year? Well, for one thing, everyone else involved has a complete blast playing my games. They want more. And I just keep hoping that if I keep on going, maybe somehow I'll start to enjoy it too. For another thing, I have new ideas for this campaign every day. Every. Single. Day. I can't stop them. They just come to me. Hundreds of pages worth of campaign ideas clutter my mind and my space and my life. Wasting all of it would kill me, so I'm diving back in, even if I'm pretty sure that getting back into the DM's chair would also kill me._

 _So, now we're back. The adventures of Anwen and Pelora and some other people will continue. All the way to Level 30, baby. Be sure to let us know what you think about what's happened so far._


	5. Sheradon Sightsee

**DM's Note:** _So,_ Whirlwind _has returned! We've moved our RPing from a Chatzy room to a Discord server—a much better, more streamlined experience. We played this episode over the course of a week's worth of daily sessions in mid-August 2018, before Nathalie and McKenzie returned to school._

 _Yes, I somewhat dishonestly neglected to mention that the three of us are scattered across the world and we play via text chat. So, yeah, how long it took starts to make more sense now, doesn't it… takes longer to type something than just to speak it._

 _We're working on speeding up the process. It's definitely better than before; on Discord, it monitors who's typing, so there's no timing issues or wondering whether or not we're waiting on someone, and the battle that takes place in the next episode went at a very satisfying speed. Still, the fact that this episode took seven days and now we're only playing once a week does still have me very concerned that what I've been worrying about will come to pass: that this 30-level campaign, roleplayed as a proper story, will take 30 years to complete. I really don't want that to happen and I still freak out about it every now and then. But if that's how it goes, that's how it goes. In the end it'll still be a satisfying story._

~0~0~0~

 **WHIRLWIND**

 **Chapter 3: Women About Town  
** **Episode 5: Sheradon Sightsee**

" _Women move mountains every day, of course. Two women together can rearrange the face of the world."  
_ Kathy Isles, human housemaid, 571 years after the fall

~0~0~0~

Anwen's eyes opened.

Weakly and slowly, she sat up in her hammock. "Can't feel sick," she told herself as she gazed out into the sunlit streets.

She crossed the room and picked up her small hand mirror, inspecting herself. On her calf, the bite from a fire beetle had left a scar.

Shaking her head, she looked around her apartment, taking note of the goggles Semaj had given her. She picked them up and held them for a moment, before carefully setting them down and leaving them behind.

~0~0~0~

When Anwen reached the streets, she found Sora there waiting for her. "Yo!" the girl said brightly, waving. "Stirge on a stick?" She offered Anwen a kebab speared with several chunks of oddly fatty meat.

"Eh, no thanks," Anwen said awkwardly, moving around her and walking off.

"Fine by me," said Sora, taking one of the chunks for herself and keeping pace with Anwen. "Any plans for Greengrass?"

"I, uh… no, not really," said Anwen. "Just, maybe… keeping a lookout, you know? I mean, not that… there shouldn't be too much to worry about."

Sora shrugged. "Yeah, I got you. Well, maybe I'll see you then. Where are you headed now?"

"The temple of Pelor," Anwen said with surprising calmness.

"Cooooool," Sora said eagerly. "So, you guys are still gonna be a team? Even though…" She hesitated, taking a step away.

"I suppose…" Anwen said vaguely. "Whatever Semaj has planned I want to be there so he won't screw anyone over."

Sora shifted uncomfortably, but Anwen took no notice.

~0~0~0~

"So, uh…" a man said nervously, holding up his own severed finger and displaying the bloody stump where it had been attached. "Can you?"

"I'm going to be honest with you, sir," Pelora said carefully. "I can reattach your finger again, but it won't be the same as before. So I need you to know that you must be careful with that finger."

"Oh," the man said, clearly disappointed. "Well… I-I suppose it's better than nothing." He placed the finger in her hand.

"Now," Pelora told him. "I'm going to use the healing word spell to reattach your finger into its place and heal the injuries along with it."

She placed the finger against the stump and clasped the man's hand in both of hers. Her hands glowed with white light, as Anwen entered the temple.

The man flexed his reattached finger with great difficulty, displaying a very poor range of motion. "Thank you, miss," he said, giving Pelora a small bow before leaving.

Anwen approached slowly, tapping Pelora on the shoulder to announce her arrival. "What's his deal?"

"Oh, a small accident," Pelora replied. "He was going to make breakfast, but his hand slipped and he cut off his finger by accident. I used healing magic to reattach his finger again, but it won't be the same as before. Either way, what is your business here then?"

"Oh, is that all?" Anwen said flippantly. "Well, anyways—I was wondering if you'd like to—I mean, if you you're ready to explore the other districts. I mean if we're gonna figure out this darkness and whatever Semaj is planning we better know where we're going and not just wandering around like aimless fools."

Pelora thought hard about that. "Yes, I have considered that," she admitted. "Although I promised to stay in the safety within the temple, I cannot ignore the fact that many others might need help."

Anwen gazed around at the temple, from the spotless golden ornaments on the ceiling to the polished ivory fountain, then down to her own dirtied and bloodied body and clothes. "Uh, Pelora… I apologize for this being a rather awkward topic of conversation, but when you got back to the temple last night, did you hit the sack?"

"Yes, I did fell asleep at once when I returned to the temple," said Pelora. "You know, I believe we're both in need of cleaning up."

"Heh, yeah, we do," Anwen said with a smirk.

"Very well," said Pelora, leading her to the temple's back rooms. "Follow me, so we can take a much-needed shower."

"Hmm, okay," said Anwen.

~0~0~0~

Anwen stared apprehensively, her mouth agape, at the hot water pouring from a showerhead shaped like an eagle's head. "Yeah…" she said aloud, before stepping under the stream and sighing deeply.

As she sprayed the dirt off of her skin, she took note of Pelora, beside her in the temple's shower room, beneath a showerhead on the wall alongside hers, with no separation between the pair of them. Anwen found herself staring at Pelora's curvy figure, flushing bright red as she caught herself, but shortly realized that Pelora too was scanning her body in return.

"Like what you see, Pelora?" said Anwen with an attempt at confidence. "So… this is every day for you?"

Pelora blushed. "Yes, I do shower every day usually, if that is what you mean." She averted her eyes and began scrubbing herself with soap.

Anwen chuckled. "No, I mean, like, do you usually have someone to join you?" She turned to let the water hit her back, and gasped again. "Yeah, that feels good."

"No, I do not get company in the shower. Most of the temple people are already awake by the time I wake up and take my shower."

"Well that's kind of surprising," said Anwen. "At least you don't have to worry about too many people checking you out."

As if on cue, Verthandi entered the chamber. "Oh, hello ladies," she said. Almost instantly, she dropped the towel she was wearing, revealing a body covered in tattoos and piercings: sun symbols, eagles, bright city towers, golden lines of scripture. She took her place beneath the third showerhead. "Hey, I heard what you did yesterday. Good job, you two. You should be proud of yourselves."

Anwen flinched away slightly. "Umm… nice designs," she said. "And, uh… thanks, but Pelora did much of the work. She's a real hero there."

Verthandi raised an eyebrow. "That's not what I hear. Sure, they like Pelora down there for being at your side, but you're the one who's been looking out for them for years."

"I'm just trying to help the best that I can…" Anwen said awkwardly, turning to Pelora.

Verthandi took a glance at Anwen's body. "Wow," she muttered, turning away.

"Ah, yes," said Pelora. "You already met Verthandi, when you were revived. You might want to try this soap, it's made of hibiscus flowers and leaves of aloe vera. It's good for your skin as well."

Anwen accepted the soap in surprise. "Thanks. Heh, never realized how dirty my fingernails are. Yeah, um… thanks, Pelora."

~0~0~0~

Back in the chapel, Anwen scrubbed the dirt off of her leather tunic. Her nut-brown hair, newly dried, now had a great deal of body and a feathery texture to it. "How's your clothes coming along?" she called to Pelora.

Pelora, her hair back in its customary braid, had cleaned her robe in the chapel's water fountain and was now drying it with sparkling white lights from her hands.

Oblio emerged from the back rooms, in his full vestments and armed with a mace, and smiled brightly when he saw them. "Oh hey! What brings you by?"

"Just needed to discuss some things with Pelora," Anwen said sheepishly. "And to thank her for her help yesterday. I wouldn't have survived this without her."

"Aw, that's cool," he said. "Well, I'm off. See you, Pelora!"

"See you later, Oblio," she called back as he departed. She pulled her robe over her head and approached Anwen. "Now, I believe we worked together yesterday, so the honor is shared between you and me."

Anwen shook her head, chuckling. "Yeah, but I honestly think you were the one that did the most damage. But, I suppose it was an equally successful effort considering the circumstances."

Pelora pondered that. "Let's just say it's an equal battle and we won?" she suggested.

"Fair enough," said Anwen, strapping herself back into her tunic and looking around the chapel once more. "Does it bother you?" she asked. "You know, just staying in all the time. All of _this_. A lot of people don't have the luxuries you have, did you know that before?"

"Yes, I am aware of that," said Pelora. "However, it's my place to stay here. I do not know the reasons why I am not allowed to venture on my own into the world, but my parents has always told me that there's a reason for everything."

"Yeah, but if it means doing nothing but hiding and lounging around… prayers and worship can only get you so far before you need to actually take action," Anwen said aggressively. "There's a lot more to this world, to this city even, than just your temple and my district. Waiting for a higher power to change these people's lives is not going to do anything. Going out and learning will."

Pelora looked as if she'd been slapped. "I'm sorry my upbringing displeases you, but I have to remind you that I'm not the only cleric in the world to help the people of this city. I only do as I'm told to and I have never had a reason to doubt in my parents nor in my beliefs for Pelor."

"Well, would—would Pelor really be so fond to just let one live in ignorance? Only hearing and never experiencing?" said Anwen, her fingers twitching and forming a fist. "You said it yourself that the world is filled with darkness. This city is huge, but it's only a small bit of the greater picture. I can't force you to fight for it my way, but at the very least, I want to share the knowledge gained from exploring the city with you."

Pelora bristled as she donned her armor. "I was about to agree with that suggestion, as long as you don't criticize my beliefs again. I agree on you can take me out on a tour of the city. However, let's forget this conversation for now. I am not in the mood for this argument to get any further."

"You're right," Anwen said grudgingly. "I did go too far in that regard. But I won't apologize for feeling ashamed at such comfort."

"I understand," said Pelora. "Now, should we get on our way? I have never seen much of the city before yesterday."

"We shall," said Anwen, offering her hand.

Hand in hand, they headed for the door.

"Going somewhere?" said a voice.

They slowly turned around. It was Jepser, looking particularly intimidating in his hooded robe and toting a scythe.

"Uh, yes," Anwen said unsteadily. "We were on our way to check on the slums district. The villagers adore Pelora here and wish for her to bless them and their, er, short lives."

"Oh, well, if that's all," said Jepser, turning to Pelora. "Your parents told me to watch over you, and for you to heed my words."

"Yes, I am aware of that," said Pelora, bowing respectfully. "I am merely going to pay these poor villagers a short visit and bless their lives for any upcoming misfortunes."

Jepser raised an eyebrow, unconvinced, then bowed. "This is the world. No one should be kept from it. I wish you well."

Pelora's eyes widened. "High Priest, I-I don't understand. Your promise to my father then?"

"To watch over you?" said Jepser. "I'll consider it an honor to watch you leave with your friend. Go. Learn."

"Yes, let's," Anwen urged, pulling at Pelora's hand.

Pelora didn't move, instead staring at Jepser for a long while. "High Priest," she finally said with another bow. "I understand and thank you. I shall learn."

~0~0~0~

"All righty," said Anwen as they descended the temple stairs, "since we're in the north gate district, how about we start small and take a look around here." She rubbed her hands together and looked around. "Oh! Pelora, look, a stable. You like animals? Let's go take a look-see."

"Oh, that's Snowfire Stable," Pelora told her. "That's where we keep my family's horses. I tended to them yesterday when Semaj came and disturbed me."

"Semaj?!" Anwen demanded. "What did he say to you? Did he do anything?"

Pelora shifted uncomfortably. "Well, the usual. Pestering me about leaving the temple and 'save the world'. Then we found out that the villagers were under attack. I believe maybe he wanted me to see the point. I do not believe he's truly evil and harmful. His decisions are just wrong and he doesn't think about the consequences."

"Huh," Anwen remarked. "Still, I don't want you to ever let your guard down because of him." Realizing she was gripping Pelora's arm very tightly, she let go. "Sorry, sorry. I just… be careful." She turned away, muttering, "Kinda hard to trust someone who paid a guy to kill you."

"I'm not exactly un-careful, Anwen," said Pelora. "I understand it's hard to trust him when he went and did that kind of circus. It wasn't honorable at all, but I believe he went to drastic measures to make us see there are darkness lurking in the world. In case we meet him again, you can always make him feel guilty to the point that he wants to make amends to your bidding."

"Good point," Anwen said, and she sighed. "Anyways, shall we, uh, check out some of the local businesses? Just to look, not to buy. Shopping isn't really necessary in this exploration, you know?"

"I do not need to buy," Pelora said simply. "I only live through the gifts of Pelor bestowed on us."

~0~0~0~

Anwen looked around at the stable and its horses, and gave a small smile. "So you're familiar with this spot, I suppose?"

"Yes, that's where my family keep our horses and our wagon we use when we're travelling."

"Didn't think you'd travel that much," Anwen remarked. "Hmm… interesting."

A loud creaking sound heralded the arrival of a man down the ladder leading to some room above the stables. Micah, the stable owner, was a huge man with bulging muscles, bronzed skin, and long, shaggy red hair, wearing only a leather loincloth covered in overstuffed, jangling pockets. "Hey, what can I do for you?" he said in his surprisingly youthful voice. "Why, Miss Newserge—haven't seen you in ages."

"It has been a long time, indeed," said Pelora, bowing her head in greeting. "Has Poppy and Mertil been treated well?"

"Oh, don't you worry, I've been taking good care of them," said Micah. "Strange creatures. Smart. Bit like elves, really. Which I guess makes sense. Who's your friend?"

"Oh, this is Anwen. She's a good friend I've befriended in a short while."

"Uh, hey," Anwen said blankly with a small wave. "Yeah, um, I'm Anwen. Anwen Ma'Sijor."

He waved back. "Miss. So, how can I help you today?"

"Oh, I'm just with her," said Anwen, pointing to Pelora. "Looking around. Just. Looking."

"Just looking, eh? Is there anything in particular you're looking… for?"

"Not really, just taking in a bit of this… place," Anwen said absently. "Animals and such before heading out, you know? Who are Poppy and Mertil?"

"Poppy and Mertil is my family's horses," Pelora explained. "We use them to pull our wagon as we travel around. Naturally, I never usually went anywhere as I always sat inside the wagon." She pointed out the stable's rear window, indicating a large wagon covered by a canopy. "That is the family wagon."

"Cool," said Anwen, stroking her chin. "So… you've never been on them? Hmm, kind of a waste, really. Perfectly good and functioning animals, sitting here cooped up. Probably need to get out as well."

"What kind of a place do you think this is?" said Micah. "I take every one of these animals out beyond the city walls every day to run."

"Huh," Anwen mused. "So the Newserges allow the horses to roam around outside the city but their daughter can't. Funny, really. Tell me though, how far have you gone outside the city? I mean you must keep them close in order to have them all come back here. Probably can't hold much or take too much stress other than basic exercise."

"I don't know the details," said Pelora, "but I suppose it's more of a spiritual strain than physical. And I never questioned my parents about why I weren't allowed to go outside so much."

"…No, they're just horses," Micah said uncertainly. "They're a little bit magic, but they're still horses. They've got muscles like any horse, I don't know about any… spiritual energy…" He cleared his throat and addressed Anwen. "No, I don't take them far. Just outside the walls. I take them one at a time and ride them around a bit. Takes a couple of hours."

"Have they eaten yet?" Pelora asked, producing an apple from a bucket full of them. "I'd like to give Poppy and Mertil their favorite treats and see how they're holding up."

Micah chuckled. "They can't survive on treats alone. But be my guest."

Pelora nodded. "Thank you for your time. Anwen, are you coming? They might like you."

"Sure, sounds cute," Anwen said. Before following Pelora, she turned to the man. "I apologize for my suspicions. Just trying to figure things out, you know?"

"Figure out… what, exactly?" he asked.

"Not sure," Anwen admitted. "Pelora. Other people and socializing with them, I suppose. What they're thinking and their lives. Solutions that aren't just brute force. I guess. It's kind of a lot to say." Trailing off vaguely, she joined Pelora at the end of the row with the two shimmering horses.

"The cream-colored is Poppy, she loves apples," Pelora explained. "And the white one is Mertil and she's more calmer. She's also older than Poppy. Poppy has always been my favorite." She offered up the apple to Poppy, who excitedly darted forward to grab it.

"Cute," said Anwen. "Always so whimsical, it seems like…" She turned to Micah, who was ascending the ladder. "Is she always like this?"

He lingered halfway up the ladder. "I wouldn't know. Hardly met her. She hasn't been back here since the family arrived… good to see that she cares."

"Yeah, she does, doesn't she," Anwen said thoughtfully, as Micah left the pair of them alone.

Pelora placed an apple in Anwen's hand. "Try feed this to Mertil," she said encouragingly.

"Oh, thank you," said Anwen, a little unsure of herself. "Are you sure? I mean, I don't want to confuse her somehow."

"Oh, she won't be confused. Mertil is a very smart girl."

Anwen slowly and carefully extended her arm, offering the apple to the white horse. "Come on, er… Mertil. Here's a nice apple." Mertil ignored her, and she shrugged. "Oh well, maybe some other time. How about you feed her?"

"It's all right, she's always wary around strangers," Pelora said comfortingly, taking the apple from her. "Here, girl. You trust me, right?"

Poppy snatched the apple out of Pelora's hand before Mertil could take it.

"Well, she's a grabby little pony," Anwen said in amusement.

"No, Poppy!" Pelora scolded. "That was for Mertil. Ugh… I just fetch another apple." She picked up another from the bucket.

Anwen placed a hand on her shoulder. "Maybe we should save those for later. Gonna be a long day for them."

"Well, I got a backup plan," Pelora declared, setting down the apple and instead producing a carrot, holding it out for Mertil. "Poppy doesn't like carrots, but Mertil does. Once we're done here, we can explore the city."

"Think we can bring 'em along?" said Anwen, pointing first to the horses, then the wagon.

"Exploring the city? I don't think so…" Pelora said warily.

"Honestly, I wouldn't be suggesting this, to anyone," Anwen went on, "but we've got a lot of ground to cover and we'll be exhausted running from district to district and we'll probably need to have some kind of rest. I'm not going to let them get hurt. If we're near somewhere dangerous we'll tie them a safe distance."

"I suppose so…" said Pelora, crossing her arms. "I'm responsible for Poppy and Mertil, that's why I hesitate. But that's a good idea."

"Well then, what are we waiting for?" said Anwen, pulling her toward the wagon.

Pelora took a long look at the wagon and inhaled deeply, backing away from it. "Nope," she said simply, opening the door to Poppy's stall. "We're not bringing the wagon."

"Oh… okay," said Anwen. "Sorry. We'll just take the horses and we'll hope for the best. Sorry."

Some minutes later, they rode out of the stable together, Pelora on Poppy and Anwen on Mertil.

~0~0~0~

They came upon a pleasant little neighborhood, every home having a green yard with various personalized decorations. Children frolicked in the streets as the two riders passed through.

"West district, I assume," said Pelora. "It's very peaceful."

"It's actually still the north gate, Pelora," Anwen corrected. "I suppose you could call it peaceful if you have parents around to pay the rent…" She brought Mertil to a stop at the sight of one house in particular.

Pelora halted as well. "Is something the matter?"

Compared to the other houses, the one Anwen had taken notice of was quite drab, lacking the lawn ornaments and paint of the others. Anything that would distinguish it or give it a personal touch was absent.

"I'm fine," Anwen muttered, wringing her hands.

Pelora stared at her. "No, you're not fine," she stated. "Your shoulders tensed up as soon as we saw this house."

Anwen sighed and turned to face her. "I lived here. This used to be my home. I obviously don't live here anymore, and… everything there is gone."

"Oh… I'm so sorry." Pelora glanced at the house, then back to Anwen. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Anwen bit her lip. "Not really. But it's not like it's going to stop you so go ahead and ask anyways."

"Did you lived here for long?" Pelora blurted. "With parents? I know the strange man Semaj talked about knowing your parents, but I don't really know anything about that."

"Uh… not very long. Just the first ten years of my life. Parents… yeah, I lived with them. They were great. I remember when they came back from a mission and they came with a flute as a gift. They told me if I ever felt alone the notes of it would just… would… would tell me they'd be home. That things will go well. The soft song would lull me to sleep like it was them doing that. Kind of like yours, though with a little more, um, independence."

Pelora nodded. "Well, yes. My parents perhaps… ah, isolated me. But I always believed they had good reasons."

"Well, reasons or not—" Anwen began, looking away and swiftly losing her train of thought at the sight of another house. While most of the properties in the neighborhood were all about the same size and containing a house and a yard, this house—painted pitch-black, trimmed with red, and three times as tall as any other house in the area—was a palatial mansion squeezed into the relatively humble suburban area, filling up not only its entire lot but also the space behind its two neighbors.

"Oh no," said Anwen. She fumbled about on her person for Semaj's business card, and compared it to the address of the mansion before her. "Oh the gods damn me!" she yelled. "We need to go. Now!" She grasped Pelora's hand and attempted, unsuccessfully, to kick Mertil into action.

"What? Why?" Pelora said in confusion. "What's wrong with this place? No, I want to see this place."

"No! We can't! And you shouldn't!" Anwen desperately leaned forward onto Mertil's neck. "C'mon, c'mon, move it!" she urged to no avail.

A man in a long brown coat and wide-brimmed hat, who had been standing at the side of the road, stepped out in front of the pair of them on their horses. "Where are you racing off to, ladies?" he asked. "You just got here. What's got you so scared?"

"Scared?" Anwen demanded, looking between the house and the man. "I am _not_ scared. I do not get scared. Actually, you know what, you're right, let's take more of a look. In fact, tell us, good sir, who lives in that rather… audacious mansion?"

"Some dude," the man said dismissively, before opening up his coat to reveal a collection of finely-carved and expertly-painted wooden toy birds. "Bird? Only a noble."

Pelora gasped in delight. "Oh, such beautiful birds. Such pity I don't have any money. Otherwise I would've gotten one as a keepsake."

Anwen let out a relieved breath. "Shall we continue?" she asked.

"No money?" the man said with a flicker of disappointment. "Well, come back if ever you have something. They don't only look good—they're quite fun once you've mastered them." He expertly tossed one of the birds, which caught a breeze, soaring briefly into the air before turning around and gliding perfectly back into his hand. "My name's Martinzion," he said. "Ask around for me here in the neighborhood, most of the kids know where to find me." He waved to a couple of passing children.

Pelora smiled. "Oh, how cute."

"Mm, yeah," Anwen said softly. "Things really did change. The houses still look the same, but yet kinda different. Same with everyone here. Let's hope their parents stick around."

Martinzion tilted his head curiously. "You from around here, miss?"

"I was," Anwen replied, looking away. "Just here for nostalgic reasons. See that place over there? My parents and I used to live there. Wasn't anything grand but it was enough for just the three of us."

"That so?" said Martinzion, looking at the house. "Last I heard, some city official hangs onto the place for… tax purposes… uh-oh." He hastily backed away and looked at the ground, tilting his hat down low over his eyes.

It was quickly apparent what triggered this: a city guardsman astride a warhorse was slowly coming up the street.

"He doesn't look too happy," Pelora remarked, frowning. "I hope he isn't coming to us just to tell us to get out of here. That'd be very rude and violate our rights to walk around freely. It isn't forbidden to look around."

As the guard approached, he nodded to the two of them. "Ladies," he said casually. "Selling your birds in a residential area without a permit again, Martinzion? You two, was he trying to sell you his toys?"

Anwen looked to Pelora.

"I was just looking at the beautiful wooden toy birds he made of his own hands," Pelora said sincerely. "If he were selling… I think he would've told me and I haven't heard anything of it. Looking at his gifted talent is no crime of what I heard of."

"Just… showing?" said the guard. "Well, that's new. Not selling, then, eh?"

"…No," Martinzion said unconvincingly.

The guard yawned. "All right then. I'm watching you, craftsman, don't forget it." He and his massive horse went on their way.

Anwen smirked. "Sneaky there, eh Pelora?" she said with a playful nudge.

"You're safe, sir," said Pelora.

"Thanks," said Martinzion. "Don't get me wrong, I'd love to get a permit, but these birds barely bring in enough coin to pay for the material to make more of 'em… I'm just doin' the very best I can, you know how it goes."

"I understand, sir," said Pelora. "Pelor must've blessed you with such wonderful talent."

"Oh, I'm sure he does, milady, I'm sure he does," Martinzion said graciously. "Well, be on your way then. Again… I appreciate you helping me out. I hope you two find what you're looking for."

"But tell me, sir," Pelora added, "that grandiose house… who lives there, exactly?"

"I really don't know, but I think your friend does."

"You know?" said Pelora, turning to Anwen. "Tell me who lives there."

Anwen sighed. "It's Semaj's place." She displayed the business card to Pelora.

"Hm…" Pelora said thoughtfully. She slid off of Poppy's back and stepped up to the mansion. "How about we pay him a surprise visit?"

Anwen raised an eyebrow. "And what's got you so interested in this man that you feel like we should just go to his house? He's been nothing but sketchy since the moment we met him and when he's not being an annoyance he's acting like a con man. Forgive me if I'm not really eager to have tea with him for any more time than is necessary."

"We're not having tea with him," Pelora assured her. "At least you don't have to. I have questions that has to be answered and I don't take anything else than the truth."

"That's not what I—" Anwen began, sighing. "Well, I promised the priest back at the temple you'd be safe, so if you feel like you need answers from him, then I'll join you. Just be careful with what you say, Pelora."

"Don't worry, I will be careful," said Pelora. "Getting answers to my questions shouldn't be dangerous."

Anwen brought the horses up to the door as Pelora knocked. Minutes passed, and there was no activity within the mansion. Pelora lifted the heavy knocker to knock again, and still nothing happened.

"Okay," Pelora sighed. "He isn't home, so I suppose we're leaving."

~0~0~0~

Anwen and Pelora approached the iron fence surrounding a gated community, passing by a number of tightly-packed and brightly-colored stores.

Just outside the gate, three teen girls, decked out in the most current and expensive fashions, were sitting in the street, giggling. At the sight of the two riders, one of them shakily got to her feet.

"Hey, yo," she said, giggling along with her friends. "Yo. We just smoked like way too much haze-onion for this early in the morning… way to go, Chloe… so we can't go to school like this… like, literally, we can't 'cause we can't climb the fence… so, like, could you get us some solik berries from the apothecary to sober us up? I'll totally pay you. I'd go myself, but I can't really move from this spot." They continued to laugh as the girl who was speaking, barely managing to stay upright as she leaned against the fence, tossed fistfuls of coins at the pair of them.

Anwen sneered, but swiftly dropped off of her horse, collecting all of the coins from the ground.

"What is wrong with those?" Pelora whispered, looking upset. "That isn't proper behavior at all! Why throw away money like that, that is so careless and ungrateful of them."

The girls laughed hysterically.

"Almighty Pelor wouldn't stand for this," Pelora growled. "All those people who struggle for survival and these… these tramps waste away their riches for fun?"

"They're high as a kite, sweetheart," Anwen said bluntly. "When you're as rich and pampered as them you tend to throw money away both ways. Everyone else just picks up the scraps and suffers their consequences." She offered Pelora the handful of coins. "Here, take them. You're probably more responsible with it than they are. And me."

Pelora pocketed the coins unhappily. The speaker of the three girls, whose meager clothes were of sparkling silver and who had blue streaks in her short hair, pointed a limp, shaky hand at them accusingly. "So, like, you're gonna get us the solik berries, right?"

Pelora glared at her. "I will retrieve the solik berries. Pelor is probably wondering why bothering with your creations," she muttered to herself. To Anwen, she said, "Let's head to the apothecary now. So I can get rid of this… quest."

"You are better than I, Pelora dear," Anwen chuckled as Pelora slipped out of the saddle. "They clearly don't deserve it, though."

"No, they don't," Pelora agreed harshly as they walked to the nearby, clearly marked apothecary shop. "But a vow is always a vow, and I took a vow to never ignore any call of help. No matter how… insignificant it seems."

They entered the shop full of herbs and potions, and approached the counter. "There is the solik berries," Pelora said promptly, finding a box atop the counter full of assorted berries. "How much is it for them, I wonder?"

"Five silvers a scoop," said the short, portly man behind the counter.

"Anwen, can you help me with these coins?" said Pelora, fumbling in her pockets for them.

"No problem," said Anwen. She swaggered over to the counter and placed two gold coins atop it. "All righty, sir, let's get this straight," she said in an imitation of Semaj's laid-back drawl. "We need three scoops of solik berries, give us the berries. The three girls out there will probably pay you even more than what you're getting if you make this a quick service."

"…'Kay," said the bewildered man, taking the two coins.

"What are you doing?" Pelora hissed. "What happened to be polite and respectful?" She bowed her head at the man, accepting the three scoops of berries in little pouches. "Excuse my friend, this isn't a good day. Thank you, and Pelor bless you for your service."

Anwen accepted their change, five small silver coins, and the two of them walked back out into the streets. "Okay, I gotta admit the gold kind of gave me a little bit of a boost, you know?" Anwen said with a broad smirk. "Maybe that's what money does to you—like you're on top of the world! Or, you know, imitating Semaj?"

"Why are you making fun of him for?" said Pelora, frowning. "I like you better when you're yourself and not imitating Semaj for fun's sake. Never mind that, we just hand over the berries for the rich and be on our way."

"Why _not_ do it?" Anwen said seriously, her confidence waning. "His whole… attitude won you over no problem, despite all the warning signs. But yeah, okay, I'll let you hold on to the money if it makes you feel better." She passed the silvers to Pelora.

They brought the berries to the girls, who each took a scoop and held it in their cupped hands. "Mmmm," the blue-haired girl pouted. "I don't want to waste this amazing bubbly buzz, but… duty calls." The three girls started scarfing down the berries, ignoring Anwen and Pelora completely.

"I believe it's time for us to move on, then," said Pelora, returning to the patiently waiting Poppy.

~0~0~0~

Traveling south, Anwen and Pelora passed by the bank, a massive building of marble and gold. The place was surrounded by some of the finest stores and businesses, but Anwen's eyes were on a kaleidoscopic tower crammed in behind a restaurant.

"Pelora," she said, mesmerized. "Umm, see that tower over there? I think we should take a look there. I think there's some things that could be of use."

They rode together around the restaurant to the small tower's entrance. The words _Wizard's Tower_ were written above the door in brightly-colored letters, and the door itself was barred only with a red curtain.

"It sounds like a fine idea," said Pelora. "I have never met a real wizard."

"Okay, um, great. Maybe you can learn more spells from him," Anwen muttered to herself.

They pushed the curtain aside, to find an interior surprisingly drab compared to the outside. The room's only occupant was Merlock, a tall, heavyset, brown-skinned man. At first glance, he appeared to have a beard and mustache, huge eyebrows, and dark circles under his eyes, but these were all painted on. His hair was spiky and brown with red streaks, and he wore a robe of yellow and green. As they came upon him, he was inspecting and re-shelving books at a rapid pace, and looked up as they entered. "Oh, hey," he said, immediately returning to his task. "Haven't seen you in this neck of the woods for a while. What brings you to my doorstep again?"

"Um," Anwen began awkwardly, "more or less just showing a sheltered priestess around the city. Maybe learning a few tricks of the trade."

Merlock chuckled. "Well, as I've explained to you before, there's really no such thing as learning 'a bit' of arcane magic. Half-elves are natural dilettantes, of course, which is why I could teach you as much as I did, but you really couldn't learn any more than I've already taught you without fully devoting yourself to becoming a spellcaster. But, as always, what's mine is yours. If any of it could be of any help to you." He nodded to Pelora. "Hello, miss. I'm Merlock. You?"

"Oh, I am Pelora Newserge," she said, bowing. "I'm just a mere priestess from the temple of Pelor."

Merlock smiled. "How cute. Well, any friend of Anwen's. It's very nice to see you again." He returned to shelving his books.

Anwen took a look around. "Looks like things haven't changed a bit," she observed, inspecting a display of magic wands.

Pelora approached one of the bookshelves, silently running her hand across one spine after another. She selected a volume marked _Arcana_ , and opened it up to a random page.

"Oh," she breathed after a few moments of reading.

Merlock watched her. "See anything interesting?"

"Yes, sir," she said. "I have always known about the magic of the Feywild. But I didn't knew about its counterpart, as it was forbidden to ask about it when I lived in the temple. All I know is to stay away from it."

Merlock looked over her shoulder at what she was indicating. "Ah, the Shadowfell," he said. "Yeah, that can be a touchy subject. No one likes to think about where we go when we die, but… there can be power found there. You're a cleric, then? Some people want magic and aren't willing to give themselves over to Pelor, but they'll do it for some shifty shadowy being, for whatever reason." He spun around and switched his attention over to Anwen. "Want a wand?"

"A wand?" Pelora said absently. "How could I need a wand when I own my staff?" Looking up from her book and realizing he was speaking to Anwen, she shrank back awkwardly.

"Nah, just looking," Anwen was saying. "Kind of cute trinkets, really."

"Suit yourselves," he said, shrugging and checking the tag on one of the wands. "If you ever have… a whole bunch of money to spare… wands are mostly for wizards, but anyone can pick up a wand and use the single spell each one is enchanted to hold. The ability to blast people is always useful."

"Why would I blast people?" Pelora asked. "Sir, I was under the impression that I should use magic to defend myself, not the other way around."

He shrugged. "Just a thought. A wand is a weapon, just like your staff or Anwen's sword. The best defense is a good offense, they say. If that's not your style… I respect that."

Pelora nodded.

"Merlock, you said it yourself, learning magic takes a lot of time and a lifetime of commitment," said Anwen. "When you're trying to fight for your survival and everyone else's, well, it just feels like it takes more time than can be afforded. At least with the staff I can see working as a physical weapon as well as magic."

Merlock frowned at Pelora's staff. "That staff isn't magic. Her holy symbol isn't even magic… but I take your point." He sighed. "Sad reality of it. It's harder to find wizards these days. No one wants to take the trouble to learn magic when you can sell your soul for it. Far too many warlocks on the streets these days…"

"Isn't it too much to sell your soul for magic?" said Pelora in disgust. "I don't understand why sell your soul for that when you can learn through hard work. I would rather taken up an offer to learn than cheat."

Anwen's eyebrow perked. "Where are these warlocks?"

"Figure of speech," Merlock told Pelora. "Warlocks gain their arcane powers from a powerful being—a devil, an alien, a shadowy thing, maybe even a fey spirit. But the patron… almost always eventually demands something in return. Where are they? They're everywhere. More arcanists are warlocks than wizards these days."

Anwen turned to Pelora meaningfully. "You think that's where the darkness is coming from?" she asked. "I don't know much magic… I don't know how we're gonna handle this."

"They're not all bad people, Annie," said Merlock, concerned. "Unlike a cleric, a warlock doesn't have to agree with their patron's goals and motivations. Plenty of warlocks pursue a heroic path. You won't be protecting anyone by beating up every warlock you see."

"How do we know if a warlock is using dark magic?" said Pelora. "You said every warlock isn't evil. However, I'd like to know how to sort out the difference, so I can know who's friend or foe."

Merlock shrugged. "The same as with anyone else. If they're a good person, they'll be a good person. 'Warlock' is a profession, just like being a shoemaker or a cook. If you're looking for the darkness, you won't find it among users of dark magic. I was merely lamenting that wizardry is becoming a lost art."

He picked up a book from a shelf and showed it to Pelora. "You're a cleric, right? Well, I can't teach you wizardry, but you can learn arcane rituals from this book. If you ever have the time to study, you're welcome to do so here."

Anwen looked at the ritual book enviously. "Well, I believe this was a fine visit," she said, "and I think we may come back here again, Merlock. Thank you for your time and knowledge."

"Yes," said Pelora, bowing to him again. "Thank you for your time and wisdom, sir."

"Anytime, ladies," he said. "Always glad to help. Enjoy your sightseeing."

~0~0~0~

"Wait, I think I recognize that flag," said Pelora, pointing to a blue banner depicting a bronze water drake, mounted at the side of a large manor house. "It represents the house of Kole."

"Cool," said Anwen, smiling. "Nice design."

"The ruler of Sheradon is Lord Drummoner Kole," Pelora recited. "That's why the flag representing the house of Kole is hanging here."

They approached Sheradon City Hall for a better look, walking between several other fenced-in noble houses to make their way there. Many guards were posted at City Hall and each noble house, and people were bustling up and down the stairs of the hall.

~0~0~0~

The centerpiece of the area they now visited was a massive temple, impossibly ancient and crumbling. Two other temples in the area flanked it, and large businesses dotted the edges of the square.

Pelora stopped at the foot of the large temple. "This is the temple of Bahamut, the Platinum Dragon," she said, awed. "Kings are crowned in Bahamut's name. He's the god of justice. It's said Bahamut is the mightiest of all gods."

Anwen nodded. "Interesting. Though justice is subjective."

"Is there more temples around here?" said Pelora, looking around. "Look, there it is!" She galloped toward a smaller temple, whose entrance was decorated with life-size statues of three gods. "Behold," she said, gesturing to the central statue, a young warrior armed with a mace and hammer, "this is Pelor, god of the sun! Isn't he magnificent?"

"Yep," said Anwen, smirking. "Gotta be my favorite."

Pelora turned to her gleefully. "Let's go inside the Hestavar temple, right? I have only heard good words of this temple."

"Okay, okay—let's go," Anwen chuckled.

Inside the temple there was golden light everywhere, and many spiral staircases leading up to high balconies. A massive clocked ticked away on the temple ceiling, and the walls were covered in dusty old books. A huge fountain occupied the center of the great chapel, and in the very back was a small altar to Pelor. Pelora immediately made her way to the altar and knelt before it.

"Almighty Pelor, my namesake," she mumbled.

Someone approached Pelora, a woman with neat blonde hair, wearing a lavender robe. Three small colorful stones orbited her head. "Greetings, sister of Pelor," she said. "You honor us. May we help you?"

"Greetings, sister of Ioun," Pelora replied. "Me and my friend is paying a visit to this temple, as I wanted to show her the god I received my namesake from." She bowed.

"Namesake?" the priestess asked. "Who might you be?"

"I am Pelora Newserge, daughter of two clerics of one of Pelor's temples."

"Pelora—how pretty!" said the woman. "I like that. I'm Jacinda. I'm working temporarily as an acolyte of Ioun here while I attend university." She looked to Anwen, who was keeping her distance. "Is… something troubling you, sister?"

Anwen rubbed the back of her neck, avoiding eye contact. "Uhh, just not used to… this," she said, gesturing around at the temple.

Jacinda bowed her head. "I understand that. It can be a bit much for some people. Most people just give a passing prayer to Pelor every now and then but aren't especially into the detailed trappings of religion."

"Yeah, exactly," Anwen said, surprised. "Just kind of overwhelming and… yeah."

Jacinda walked up to Anwen. "Now, miss, I'm not sure you understand what the gods are all about. They're really just… this. They inspire art and science and civilization. There's nothing overwhelming about it. There's this bizarre idea that the followers of each god believe theirs is the only true god. That's not remotely true. There are nineteen gods, not to mention legions of exarchs and dozens of demon lords and primordials, and they're all quite empirically real, several of them even live right here in the World. Choosing a god is not about disbelieving all the rest; it's much more like choosing a political candidate. You pick the one you like, whose morals and ethics most closely match your own—it doesn't mean you don't believe in the other gods and their followers. All I'm saying is, you're welcome here as long as you believe in the goodness of civilized people. There's no judgment for how much or how little you actually follow the code of any of the Bright City trio." She stared at Anwen brightly, blinking for a moment. "Or, maybe I'm totally projecting and you already knew all that. Either way." She stepped away, giving Anwen her distance once again.

Anwen smiled. "Well, you got me there, I suppose. I guess it's not a matter of belief for me as much as a matter of, well, patience." She rubbed her neck again, embarrassed. "I mean I have nothing against you or any followers. You and my friend Pelora here seem like a nice person and you know, maybe it's more of me not really… I don't know."

Jacinda thoughtfully brought a fingertip to her lips, examining Anwen. "Well, let me see… you're clearly a warrior of some sort, right? A ranger, perhaps?"

"Yes," Anwen said slowly, raising an eyebrow.

"Well… the heart of a ranger is a heart that beats for Melora, or Avandra. Goddesses of nature and the frontier, the places where rangers carve out their place in the world. But then again, perhaps not. It is, after all, an intensely personal choice."

"It is," Anwen agreed. "But my role is not in the name of goddesses, but for the duty that it entails for me. My duty is to defend those who can't defend themselves and anyone else in need."

"And you're doing a marvelous job in that," said Pelora, beaming. "I'm sure the people appreciates it."

"Still sounds like the heart of a ranger to me," said Jacinda. "You do you. Alone, if you must. But it can't hurt you to invite into your life some help from upstairs. Or… from the same… floor… level? Er, because Avandra and Melora, they… they live here. In the World. Not upstairs. Heh."

"…Interesting," Anwen said tersely. "And thank you, Pelora. That means something. Far more than I really deserve."

"It's something you deserve," Pelora assured her. "If people has no one to turn to, then they must feel safer that someone is protecting them out there."

"Yeah, and it won't just be me either," Anwen said confidently. "We're in this together. Give 'em hope and all."

"Heart of a ranger," Jacinda said, masking the words with a cough. With another cough, she added, "Totally would find peace in Avandra." They turned to look at her. "Look, I'm not here to sell Avandra. I'm with Ioun. I'm just saying… gods are good."

"I know, I know," Anwen said, waving her off. "I'm not anti-Avandra or any gods, I just kind of have my own belief."

"The heart of a ranger is a heart of Avandra whether you believe it or not," Jacinda said with amusement. "But I can see you're a stubborn one. As I said—you do you."

"You as well, ma'am."

~0~0~0~

"Well," Anwen said thoughtfully as they exited the temple, "I can say if I would have some sort of favorite god, I guess Avandra is a close second."

"I believe it would suit you, but the choice is up to you," Pelora replied. "You're not much of a believer in gods, are you? Not that I blame you, and with your hardships, it would be understandable."

"Yeah, not gonna lie about that," Anwen confirmed. "I'm just saying in the general sense if I had to pick a favorite god it'd probably be Pelor."

As they returned to the waiting Poppy and Mertil, they were distracted by the sight of two people emerging from the temple of Bahamut: dragonborn, muscular men over six feet tall with brightly-colored scaly skin and the handsome, noble faces of dragons. The two dragonborn men wandered off somewhere and disappeared into the streets.

"Why would Pelor be your favorite god, then?" Pelora asked as they mounted the horses. "I'm not offended, I'm very curious and I'd like to know your opinions as, when we met, you barely believed in any gods at all. Enlighten me, my friend."

"Mainly just you," said Anwen. "How excited you get, how devoted you are, how sweet you are." She blushed. "I mean, he must be doing something right if you came out as such a kind, yet badass believer."

Pelora stared at her, blushing in return. "Oh, now you must be overdoing it with flattery. I'm just a mere cleric and I have been devoted to Pelor ever since I could remember."

Anwen chuckled. "And you think I sell myself short. Pelly… you've been kind and wonderful to everyone you've met all day, even to those that clearly didn't deserve it. You can think all you want about being 'a mere cleric' but that clearly hasn't stopped you from doing everything you can to help people. And it shouldn't."

"I took a vow to help anyone, regardless of background."

"Yeah… same here. You okay?"

"Yes," said Pelora. "Your compliments just took me off guard. I have never been this praised by anyone else than my parents. I'm not used of being so praised. Usually when I get the chance to help someone, all I expect in return is he or she is happy and safe."

"Well, we're gonna do all that and more," said Anwen, as the two of them urged their horses to the east.

~0~0~0~

 **DM's Note:** _I, of course, am not the only person involved with this story. I have two players right now, hopefully more in the future. So, I'm not the only person who should be giving these notes. Let's see what the others have to say._

 **Player's Note from McKenzie/Anwen:** _Whirlwind… there's a lot I can say about it so I'll just give my little history when I was more intensely part of it. I took up the responsibility as Anwen when a friend of ours had become more… religious. I started my role of her character in 2015… and then she took a role for a brief time when my grandmother died in August that year. I went to none other than our Dungeon Master here in the days leading up to her death and asked him how he dealt with his own grandmother's death. And yeah I got closer to him after that and the next month I actually took the role of Anwen._

 _To be honest Whirlwind is an interesting experience with mixed emotions but a great payoff thanks to the author here knowing what he's doing. I'll admit in some ways when writing/playing as Anwen, especially at the beginning I was feeling somewhat angry and spiteful to the person who had played her because of her quitting. Specifically if you got a sort of femslash/yuri/lesbian vibe from Anwen in her interactions with Pelora, that's why. Then again by 2017 I had become a fan of yuri and I basically took a cue from_ Legend of Korra _in that Anwen's interaction with Pelora could be taken as friendship or a one-sided crush on Anwen's end. Either way I can't say for sure on Anwen's sexual orientation as her character arc is more of growing into something more than just protecting others as a lone wolf. Or wherever the journey Sage takes us._

 _Anyways, I've had frustrations with Whirlwind and not knowing what to do. I've gotten stress over it and how much time it took based on schoolwork and being out of the house to do family things. Yet I don't regret doing this. I'll admit though that while Anwen's dialogue here is better than in the previous chapters I do feel like I end up speaking less like my character and more of a modern-day, college-educated girl with somewhat Christopher Nolan-esque speeches._

 _Anyways, I'm happy to do this with them and be a part of something and can't wait for more in the future._

 **DM's Note:** _Several months after posting this chapter, it's come to my attention that when Kenzie said "she took a role for a brief time" in this note, she was not referring to Anwen having a role in helping her cope with her grandmother's death, but to her mistaken belief that Meredith took over the role of Anwen while she was grieving. So, I'd like to issue a correction: that never happened and I have no idea where Kenzie got the idea, especially since she perfectly well knows the reason she took over the role of Anwen_ from _Meredith in the first place. So, correction issued; you go on with the story._


	6. No Stone Unturned

**DM's Note:** _If this is gonna be a cartoon, this is going to be an incredibly ambitious chapter, these three episodes here. Ideally, it would have started very slow, not very many sets and characters to speak of, just adding them little by little. That's a good practical way to run any campaign, let alone a campaign you want to fully animate someday. But, somebody wanted to use the third chapter to explore every square inch of the city, so… that's what we've gotta do. But I wouldn't have it any other way. I love all this exploring. Gonna need to be a lot of asset creation, but it's gonna be so worth it to tell this story. I was really worried, but for the time being, I'm really loving the exploring that's going on._

~0~0~0~

 **WHIRLWIND**

 **Chapter 3: Women About Town  
** **Episode 6: No Stone Unturned**

" _Adventure is a legacy that reaches through history. I fear the day when there's no world left to chart and map."  
_ Thorfinn Halbrek, dwarf warrior, 250 years before the fall

~0~0~0~

Noon was fast approaching as they brought their horses to the very center of the city, a grassy park full of rolling hills. At the park's center was a massive circus tent, and to the north and south were bustling centers of shopping and culture.

Anwen took a deep breath and looked around. "So, yeah. Pelora, welcome to the mercantile district… I don't come here often. I mean, it's a nice place, to just unwind, relax, and all that, but… it's the places around that… I don't… come here often."

"It's beautiful," said Pelora, scanning the hills and ponds. "I suppose this must be the center of Sheradon then? It looks very lively."

"Indeed it is," said Anwen with a nod, before her stomach growled loudly. "Uhh, did you hear something?"

"Yes, I did," said Pelora. "You must be hungry. I believe I might be as well… how about we search for a place to eat? Surely it has to be something affordable, now when we got money."

Anwen hesitated. "Uh, Pelly, let's save the money for another day. There's plenty of ponds here and it's free to fish. Let's try that!"

"Anwen, this is a good opportunity. We might not have it again. We can head for that dwarven restaurant? Please?" She served Anwen with an exaggerated, wide-eyed pout.

"Sorry, Pelora, but no," Anwen said plainly, smirking. "I think we should be a little more frugal. Maybe another day… just not now."

~0~0~0~

Ten minutes later, they each had a fishing line in a pond. Soon, the tip of Pelora's line began to dip and wriggle. "La!" she exclaimed gleefully.

She reeled in, and caught a glimpse of a minnow just below the surface before it escaped her hook and it returned to the water.

"Well, crap," said Anwen, deflated.

"No…" Pelora whined. She glared accusatorily at the fishing rod. "Is this even good quality? It wouldn't surprise me if it weren't."

"Hey, hey, hey," Anwen said rapidly. "Pelly, calm down, it's one mishap. Let's just try again. No harm no foul." Her stomach rumbled again.

Much later, Anwen hooked a fish, but swiftly lost it. "Fuck…" she muttered.

"Well…" said Pelora, staring after it. "No food, I suppose."

Anwen sighed and put a hand on her stomach. "Well, none here. But maybe we can get something at the restaurant."

They placed the fishing rods back on the rack set up near the pond, where they had left the horses, and proceeded to the south of the park.

~0~0~0~

To the south was a small square devoted to dwarves, including a temple, several blacksmiths, and their destination, a squat cauldron-shaped building marked as a dwarven restaurant. Several dwarves loitered around the area; long-haired folk, the men bearded, more than a foot shorter than an average human but wider and heavier.

Pelora smiled at the sight of them and turned to Anwen. "I met dwarves a few times. While they differs from elves and humans, I find their company enjoyable and fun. I loved to hear their songs, tales, and laughter."

"Interesting," said Anwen. "I've seen some, never really talked to them."

"Oh, you'll love them," Pelora assured her. "I met some. We once stayed in a temple of Moradin, the god of creation, and I met with dwarves. They showed me so much of their culture. Songs, dances, stories… they're a bit loud, but very high-spirited."

"Sounds like a wild bunch," said Anwen, bending her head down to enter the restaurant.

They took seats. The tables and chairs were designed for dwarves, so it was a tight fit. The place was cozy and warm, heated by the iron forge used for cooking. A gray-haired dwarf woman approached them. "Welcome, ladies," she said in a rich brogue. "What'll ye have?"

"Oh, I'll have the Dwergenberger along with mini corn dogs, thank you," Pelora said, smiling happily.

Anwen scanned the menu up on the far wall, holding her breath and finally letting it out. "Uh, I'll have the Dwergenberger as well, but with onion rings," she said, blushing somewhat.

"Comin' right up, lassies," said the waitress. She walked to the back room to report to the cook, a jovial-looking dwarf man with a shaggy black beard, who set to work cooking.

Pelora sighed wistfully. "You know," she said, "a part of me hopes to see the dwarves I met during my stay at the temple in Runestone again. But that would be silly, right? It's not like they're the only dwarves in the world."

"Of course not," said Anwen, "but I guess in some ways when you're mostly stuck inside a building in every place you go to, it does seem like it's a smaller world. I mean, I don't really think much of dwarf culture or religions, but… it's more of the place that I'm at and what's currently happening, that I don't really think about it."

"Mm-hmm," Pelora said thoughtfully. "Either way, I do enjoy the company of dwarves. The ones I met were very happy, especially when I can speak Dwarven."

"Dwarven, eh? I've learned something new about you all day," said Anwen, giving a chuckle and a relaxed smile. "So, you're the dwarf enthusiast, how is their food? Granted it'll still be good to me regardless…"

The door to the restaurant opened, and two figures noisily blustered their way in.

"Now, this isn't something we can keep doing every tenday," Atasha was saying. "We don't have the money to keep dyeing your skin blue."

"Yeah, I know," Rhea replied despondently.

Atasha did a double-take at the sight of Anwen, but played it off and took a seat, leaning back in a chair at a table uncomfortably, and unnecessarily, close to their own. "Howdy, neighbor."

"It's them!" Pelora whispered. "Such odd coincidence…"

"Just ignore them, Pelly," said Anwen, scooting away in annoyance. "They're not worth acknowledging. Plus, I don't want to be associated with someone who already made a mess the moment she sat down."

"Wowwwww, such nice manners," said Atasha, as Rhea flicked her tongue, expressionless. "What makes you so much better than me, princess?" As the waitress approached, Atasha interrupted her before she could speak: "Yeah, get me a double Dwergenberger, extra sauce; two hot dogs, onion rings, fried mushrooms, and fish nuggets. And whatever the girl wants."

The waitress turned expectantly to Rhea, who clutched her money pouch close to her chest. "Erm… jutht a corn dog ith fine," she muttered, averting her eyes.

"Don't talk to them, don't talk to them," Anwen chanted softly to Pelora, her eyes closed.

"Oh!" Atasha raged, standing up. "Oh, do you hear that?" She pounded a fist on the table in front of Anwen. "Now really. Really, like… really. What sets you above my level, huh? The fact that you don't accept payment? Because you're somehow okay with living in the ruins of a demolished apartment building? That you run into fights you can't win? I hear a guy killed you the other night. We don't all have cleric buddies that can bring us back. Where do you get the right to be so high and mighty, neighbor?"

"And where were you when people were attacked by those monsters?" Pelora said coldly. "Sheltered in your little hidey-hole, two cowards. Anwen do something of worth, something you will never be capable to understand." She stood up and pointed at Atasha with her staff. "Leaving innocent people to die by monsters while you hide like two roaches? What a disgrace."

"Pelora, sit down," Anwen whispered, going red and biting her lip.

"We're not doing anything wrong," Pelora spat. "They come in here, makes a mess with this hideous blue stains, is rude to the waitress and has the nerve to pick a fight on others? I befriended dwarves in Runestone. They taught me a great deal about honor!"

Atasha smirked. "Honor. Well, honor and a gold piece, as they say, will get you a Dwergenberger. But you want honor? Let's go. You ignore us, you yell at us—how about a duel, darlings?"

"Don't call me darling, wench," Pelora snarled. "Good, I accept your duel!"

"Oy!" the cook called out. "Take it outside, ladies, or you're nay gettin' your meal."

Anwen rubbed her temples in exasperation, but stood up to leave. "Well, it probably won't be much of a duel."

"SHUT UP!" Atasha screamed at her back.

"I am not afraid," Pelora told Anwen. "I had enough of those, and time to show them their place."

The three of them went outside, Pelora and Anwen facing Atasha in the streets outside the restaurant.

"Let's do this," said Atasha. "A little two-on-two. Me against the cleric… oh, how I would have liked to cross swords with Ma'Sijor, but she's not the one who accepted the challenge… with Rhea and Ma'Sijor as our seconds. R… Rhea?" She realized Rhea was not beside her, and looked inside the restaurant. "Rhea, get your tail out here and be my second!"

"I ain't got no part of thith," Rhea sneered from within.

"You're gonna be a part of this!" Atasha roared. A few seconds later, Rhea emerged, grumbling.

"Look, will you just stop," said Anwen. "She's had nothing to do with your fit, she doesn't have to fight."

Atasha scowled. "I didn't have a _fit_ ," she hissed, "until you started ignoring me. I've had it with your disrespect, Ma'Sijor. We're neighbors and slum sisters. We want the same things And if you can't respect that, we're going to come to blows."

Anwen sighed. "If that's what you wish, Atasha."

"Really, you were so quick to leave the people to die in the slums district," Pelora scoffed, her arms crossed and with a harsh glare on her face. "That is disrespect enough."

Atasha snapped her fingers. "You know the rules. Seconds, hash this out."

Rhea sighed and walked a short distance away, followed closely by Anwen. "Okay, listen," Anwen said once they were face to face, "you and I don't want this duel to happen. You have nothing to do with this and I didn't even want this to happen, so let's just lessen both of our headaches and say that whoever wins pays for the other's lunch."

Rhea clutched at her moneybag again reflexively. "That… that'th actually pretty reathonable," she muttered in surprise. "Didn't expect that from you. Okay. You're on." After a pause, she added, "My dye ith dried, by the way. I've been with Random all morning getting dyed. I'm not leaving thtains anywhere."

"Random?"

Rhea jabbed her thumb toward a business just on the outskirts of the dwarven area, Random's Tattoo Parlor.

"Believe it or not, while I don't particularly like you, I can be fair to know who's minding their own business," Anwen said dryly. "Oh… sorry about the dye thing then."

Rhea flicked her tongue again, before they returned to Pelora and Atasha. Atasha was sourly tapping her foot, and Rhea actively nudged Pelora as she passed, baring her fangs. "Tell 'em," she said to Anwen.

Anwen rolled her eyes. "All righty, we're gonna just do a simple low stages wager, whoever wins has to pay for the other's meal." She twirled her finger in the air.

"What?! Damn it, Rhea," Atasha grumbled. "Gah, FINE." She drew her scimitar. "You ready, priestess?"

"Oh, I'm always ready," Pelora said confidently. "Are you?"

Anwen instantly rushed Atasha, swinging wide with her axe and bopping her in the head with the pommel of her sword. Atasha responded with a growl, and by spinning on her heel, teleported some twenty feet away. She pointed her sword, and lightning shot out of the blade, zapping Anwen. Pelora walked to Anwen's side and shot at Atasha with a beam of light, missing widely.

Anwen stumbled a bit, queasy, but turned her attention to Rhea, slashing at her with her scimitar. Atasha raised her sword, and a massive tentacle made of fire appeared and swiped first at Pelora, then at Anwen, wrapping around her and pulling her into Atasha's reach.

Pelora followed, flanking Atasha and taking a swing at her, her staff glowing white, hitting her in the back.

Rhea spread her hands, and two darts made of dark magic appeared out of nowhere and sailed toward the pair of them; both missed and dissipated into nothing.

Sweating, Anwen swung her axe, leaving a huge bloody gash across Atasha's forearm, blood splashing across her face. Atasha growled and screamed, slashing with her scimitar, which Anwen parried just in time with her own.

Rhea pressed her fingers to her temples, and an invisible force sliced through Anwen's head, causing a trickle of blood to drip from her nose and one eye.

Anwen staggered and whispered, "Almost." She hacked with her axe at Atasha's hide armor, panting heavily.

Atasha bared her teeth and huffed a few times. "Bitch," she spat, stabbing at Anwen's stomach.

Pelora wagged her fingers, washing Anwen in magical healing energy, before taking a step back and twirling her staff. "Hah!" she shouted, aiming a beam of light at Atasha's back.

It hit its mark, splitting open the back of Atasha's tunic and leaving a long diagonal burn across her back. Gurgling in pain, she collapsed flat on her face, unconscious.

"One down, one to go," said Pelora, straightening up.

"You got that right, Pelly," said Anwen with a smirk, both of them turning to face Rhea.

"Huh?" Rhea said in alarm. She looked down at Atasha, who was breathing raggedly, then between the two of them. "Ah, to hell with it," she said, magic sparkles dancing at her fingertips. "I can win that free lunch. Let'th do thith." She pointed a condemning finger at Anwen.

A cloud of purple smoke enveloped Anwen's head for a brief moment; veins in her head bulged, thick and purple, and some of the skin on her face turned green.

Her head spinning, Anwen staggered and narrowed her eyes at Rhea. She snapped her fingers, and Rhea was enveloped in red flame.

"YAAAH!" Rhea shrieked. A moment later, the fire disappeared, and she looked mildly surprised. "Didn't know you could do that…"

Anwen's jaw went slack, and she shook her head to clear it.

Pelora ran up to Rhea and swung her staff. Rhea caught the staff in her hands and said, "I yield."

Pelora's eyes widened.

"That fire, that friggin' hurt," Rhea admitted. "I'm done. We're done. How about lunch?"

The small crowd of humans and dwarves that had assembled began to disperse. The waitress poked her head out of the restaurant. "Your meals are gettin' cold, lasses."

"Fine by me," Anwen panted exhaustedly. "Let's just get back to our food and let Atasha pay for it all."

Pelora straightened up and offered a hand to Rhea. "You put a good fight, I respect that," she said. "We'll just let her pay. She lost, after all."

"Uh-huh," Rhea said dismissively, rolling Atasha over onto her back with her foot. "You gonna, like… heal her, revive her, whatev?"

"Maybe she could become nicer if I heal her," Pelora suggested, turning to Anwen.

"Pfft, AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Anwen guffawed. "Her nicer, hahahaha, oh man. Pelora, dear, how 'bout we do so after lunch." She wiped a tear from her eye. "Healing her now would just make her in denial and probably a little violent." She held her thumb and forefinger an inch apart.

Pelora shrugged. "If you say so, my friend."

Rhea looked down at Atasha. "Meh, fine by me," she said softly. She approached the waitress. "What do they owe you?"

"Er, two crowns."

"Friggin' two crowns," Rhea grumbled, fishing in her purse for them. "A'ight, here ya go."

The three of them returned to the interior of the restaurant and found their meals waiting on the tables, each one served with a tankard of dwarven ale. Anwen watched as Rhea began digging into some of the items Atasha had ordered, and shot her a thumbs-up of approval before gorging herself on her Dwergenberger.

Pelora ate hers as well, observing the other restaurant patrons. Two dwarves were chatting to each other in their own language, not bothering to speak in an undertone.

" _You're crazy,_ " one was saying. " _The one with the axe was much more attractive than the high elf._ "

" _Did you see the melons on the high elf, though?_ " the other challenged.

" _I did,_ " said the first. " _They're ridiculous. Bigger isn't always better. Doesn't matter, they're both too skinny. The one in the priestly vestments has some curve to her like a proper mortal woman._ "

Pelora smiled and leaned toward Anwen. "I believe we got a couple of fans in here," she whispered.

Rhea turned to the dwarves, smirking. " _I have a body too, you know,_ " she said in fluent Dwarven. " _Go on, judge it_."

Pelora turned to face Rhea. "You're awfully blunt," she said with a sigh.

Anwen raised an eyebrow. "Uhh… can somebody please translate?"

Pelora turned back to her. "They were talking about us. Well, about me, you, and Atasha. They weren't a big fan of Atasha, but they liked us. But Rhea seemed to take offense at being left out and remarked that she has also a body."

The two dwarves were now blushing. "Congratulations on an honorable duel," one of them said in Common.

Pelora smiled at them. " _Thank you very much,_ " she said in Dwarven.

"Yeah, sure, duel, that's what you were talking about," Anwen grumbled, rolling her eyes.

Atasha staggered back into the building, looking as exhausted as if a breeze might knock her down. "What, nobody even thought to pick me up?" she slurred. "Put me somewhere?" She set down at the table with Rhea and pulled her own plate toward herself. "Who ate all my sides?!"

Rhea giggled shrilly. Pelora looked away.

Anwen smirked, licking the grease off her fingers and winking. "Oh, hey, Atasha. I was wondering when you were going to wake up. Don't forget you're paying for this, hon." She gestured to Rhea's plate. "And hers too."

Atasha slowly began to turn around. "I got it," Rhea said hastily. "I already got it…"

Atasha ignored her, leaning down and putting her elbows on the table, leaning in close, her huge pupil-less eyes inches away from Anwen's. "You make me sick, Ma'Sijor," she growled. "Sick. I should be the hero of the slums, not you. But no matter how many things you do that I take credit for, everybody in town loves you. Sick." She attempted to overturn the table, but found it bolted to the ground, so she simply grunted and sat down to eat what remained of her meal.

"You know," said Anwen, "taking credit for something doesn't mean a damn thing if the people remember who actually protected them. It's honestly kind of pathetic, but hey, what do I know?"

Atasha ignored her. Rhea glanced up at them, but said nothing.

~0~0~0~

Anwen and Pelora rode north, traveling around the circus tent. In the tent's rear, the circus's wagons were clustered together, and many performers and workers were lounging around.

A dwarf woman with a massive hammer slung over her shoulders sat on one of the wagons, and alongside her, speaking quickly and seriously, was Semaj. She listened to him with rapt attention.

"Damn," Anwen muttered, glancing at Pelora.

"Semaj," Pelora mumbled. "This explains why his house was empty, but I wonder why he's here."

"I don't know," said Anwen, breathing deeply, "but I'm done running. If he's got something planned then we need to follow him." She dismounted and began creeping closer, beckoning Pelora to follow her lead.

Pelora did the same, but her jangling chainmail armor quickly attracted Semaj's attention.

"Ladies!" he exclaimed in delight. "Well-timed. This is Artin Arfire. Artin, these are the two I was telling you about."

"Hi there!" said the dwarf woman. "I do believe your agent here is tryin' to court me."

Anwen's hands balled into fists, then she released them. "Oh, hey there," she said casually.

"Court you?" Pelora said anxiously.

"As a team member," Semaj said hastily. "Courting her as a team member. I thought Artin here could maybe do some mercenary work with us, build up the Whirlwind team."

"That's where I'm not sure about this, Mister Semaj," said Artin. "I'm no mercenary. I'm a showgirl."

"A showgirl who smashes rocks with her giant hammer," Semaj observed dryly.

Artin shrugged. "That's what showgirls do where I come from."

"Sounds like you found another badass for the team," Anwen said flatly, crossing her arms. "Hopefully you won't send this one to her death."

Pelora slumped. "So, you are a showgirl then," she said delicately. "That's… a good profession. Have you done it for a long time?"

"Oh, aye," said Artin. "Been with the circus for many years now. It's done me well, but Mister Agent here has got me interested in… in… what was that about death?"

"Er… no," Semaj said nervously. "That was just a one-time thing. For you."

"Darkness is brewing out in the world," said Pelora. "Innocents are endangered and in mortal peril. I made a choice to do something of worth and try to help."

"M-mortal peril?" Artin squeaked.

"There's no mortal peril," Semaj said exasperatedly. "Not for us, that is. Not for Whirlwind. Especially not if we hire you, Miss Arfire. I have confidence that your strength and sturdiness is the missing piece we need to make sure we can get this done safely. But yes, she is correct: things are rising. We'll be saving a lot of innocent lives."

"Yes, _we_ will," said Anwen, glaring at Semaj.

"We," Artin repeated. "That raises the question, what's your role in the party then, Mister Semaj?"

"Me? I'm just your agent," he said quickly. "I found you. I find out where you're needed and I send you there. Isn't that right, ladies?"

"Pretty much," said Anwen.

Semaj looked relieved. "Miss Arfire, I'd like to offer you a retainer."

"I don't see the need, sir," she said. "My teeth are perfect."

"Er… right," said Semaj. "No, what I mean is up-front payment for your services. The decision of whether to join us can wait for another time, but for now, up front… sixty crowns." He gave her a bag of gold.

"Now you're talking my language," said Artin, peering inside.

"Well, at least I get to see firsthand how you probably dealt with the bone face guy," Anwen said snidely. "Though hopefully this one won't murder me."

"Bone _Mask_ Guy," Semaj said reflexively, before wincing. "No, no. That was a one-time thing." He turned to Artin sheepishly. "She refers to a deal I worked out with a local criminal known only as Bone Mask Guy. I had him pose as an assailant so as to demonstrate the kind of darkness festering around here. He killed her, I brought her back, no harm done."

"Sounds legit," said Artin.

"THANK YOU!"

Pelora turned away. "This was a mistake…" she muttered.

"What?" said Anwen, confused. "I thought you wanted this."

Pelora stepped forward to Semaj. "I feel… used, Semaj. You're telling me that your only job is to gather a ragtag team to fight the darkness, risking our lives for the greater good while you, on the other hand, won't do anything because your job is already done. So tell me… any other nasty surprise I should be aware of?"

"No nasty surprise," he said, genuinely surprised. "I don't fight. But I want to. That's why I need help. And I figure we can use all the help we can get." After a pause, he added, "To that end…"

He held up another two sacks of coins, smaller than the one he had given Artin. "How do you feel about twenty crowns each? Sorry, that's all I've got on me at the moment. But you definitely earned it. We're all team members here."

"I'm… not much for materialistics," Pelora said slowly, "but I suppose it's needed if we're going to travel. So, you don't fight. I hardly see that as a weakness. Perhaps you can do something else."

"I _am_ doing something else," Semaj replied, equally slowly. "I'm the agent. I take the people who can fight and I point them where to go. Was that not clear that that's what we're doing?"

"No, you were clear, it's just that you seem to love messing with people," Anwen said pointedly. "You can't fight so you go for others who are vulnerable enough to accept whatever bull you throw."

Pelora stared at him. "I understand." She turned away.

"Pelly…" said Anwen, putting a hand on Pelora's shoulder. "Look, even with what he's saying, you aren't going to do any of this alone. Understand? So quit moping. And you are strong, you're not stuck in a building, you're doing things! Don't think about him, who cares what he thinks? Think about what you'll be doing for others. What you'll do for yourself."

Semaj's lip thinned, and he turned to Artin. "Excuse us for a moment."

He stood up from his seated position on Artin's wagon and walked up to the two of them, ushering them aside. "Do you mind?" he hissed. "I'm trying to hire somebody who can protect you properly so maybe, just maybe, you don't die next time there's evil to be fought, and you're not presenting her with a very good team dynamic."

Pelora glared. "Maybe you should present some better character then. You made me leave me temple, good for you! Now you move down the list who else can be a sacrificial lamb for 'greater good'. Best lucks for you, Semaj."

"Pelora!" Anwen exclaimed, raising her voice. "This isn't just about you!" She grabbed Pelora by the wrist. "There are others in danger out there. What are you going to accomplish by staying in the temple? Semaj is sketchy as all hell and he deserves _all_ of the mistrust, _but_ being pissy with him should _not_ come at the expense of leaving other people to hang. Whether we like it or not, we _need_ to stick together! No one should _be_ sacrificed, and we are going to do our damnedest not to let anyone die. Got it?"

Pelora glared now at Anwen. "This is a suicide mission and you know it. And you know what? I'm still going to do it. I do something worth with my life."

Semaj huffed, staring at the ground, his fists balled up at his sides. "Why… are you being… impossible?" he said in a broken, exhausted voice. "There have been no sacrifices. No suicides. Just you agreeing with me on the fact that we need to take action, but somehow finding a reason to be pissed off at me. So how about we just work together like the clockwork we were obviously meant to be?"

"I'm not impossible," Pelora said pitifully. "I'm not impossible at all." She walked away, sitting down on a boulder just outside the circus grounds, and rested her elbows on her lap, burying her face in her hands. "Well, this went peachy."

Semaj watched her go, then wordlessly offered the two bags of coins to Anwen.

"I'll go talk to Artin about joining the team," said Anwen. "You… why don't you get tickets for the show." She bit her lip. "I caused this, I'll fix it."

"The show?" he said blankly. He took a moment to process it, then smiled and let out a huge sigh of relief. "Oh, for certain. I'll get us the finest seats. And don't you worry about Artin, I can take care of her. You make sure your friend is okay." He pointed after Pelora, then pocketed one of the two bags and jangled the other at her. "So… for you? No need to stop whatever you were doing in town, the show is after sundown. I'll see you then."

Anwen closed her eyes and slowly reached out to take the bag, pocketing it. "See ya," she said.

As Pelora sulked on the boulder, a voice said, "Hey. Are you all right?" She looked up, and it was a man who could only have been from the circus, wearing a blindingly-pink tunic, with long shaggy hair of pure white despite being quite a young man.

Pelora sighed. "I hope I will be all right. I lost control over my emotions and I took it out on my friend and this guy I like, against all odds. It's so silly, I have never been jealous over anyone before."

"That guy?" he said, craning his neck to look around. "Curious guy. Came to Artin this morning with a strange offer that didn't make much sense, but she seemed to be all for it. Well, don't you worry about a thing. Looks like your friend is on her way back. I think you're gonna be okay." He produced a finely-crafted ukulele and played a little riff, smiling broadly.

Pelora smiled back at him and applauded.

As Anwen approached, the young performer danced off to block her path. "Hey there," he said. "Not gonna make your friend feel all bad, now, are ya?"

Anwen stared at him in confusion. "Uh, who are you? And no, I just want to talk to her so could you just move?"

He tipped an imaginary hat to her. "Name's Sweet, ma'am. Just making sure. Looked like she was upset and I didn't want to see her get any more so."

"Oh. Well, erm, thank you," Anwen said awkwardly, before giving a small smile. "She really does know how to win people over."

Sweet stepped aside, allowing Anwen access to Pelora. Anwen approached slowly, avoiding eye contact and giving her a hesitant wave. "Uh, hi," she said, pointing to the boulder. "Can I sit with you?"

Pelora scooted over. "Of course," she said, smiling. "I'm sorry I lost my cool over there with you and Semaj. This has been a… trying time."

Anwen sat down beside her. "I understand that, in a way, and… look, I don't like Semaj, I just really, really… don't. But the outburst…" She sighed. "I don't know. I don't want any more people involved that could be risking their lives for nothing, but I do have some idea that we need to… it's just, you know… I was angry too, at everyone, and I'm just trying to figure it all out too."

Behind them, Sweet continued to play his ukulele, accompanied by a young boy in a pristine white shirt who was rhythmically jingling bells.

"I understand," said Pelora. "I feel confused over what I felt there. I have never felt before like this, and before my parents went on their venture, my father told me not to form any ties with the guy Semaj. I suppose I didn't quite listened at him after all."

Anwen raised her eyebrow. "Confused over what? What did you feel? I mean, your dad's right to say don't talk to him at all, but…"

"Well…" Pelora began. "Let's say there's this guy you met. He brought a girl to a temple and asked to revive her. The priests does it, this guy make it seem like it's his lover or something. This stirs emotions of the novice priestess, who had never met a man before. …Turns out it's not his lover. This guy keeps appearing and in the end, this priestess feel something for this strange guy and she doesn't know what it is."

Anwen blinked at her, trying to process this. "Wait, you thought Semaj and I… oh _hell_ to the gods no! I mean, wow, what a leap, Pelly!" She laughed. "Well… if you're feeling something that you're not sure on, it's probably just instinct. Yet we're kind of stuck with him so we kind of have to just go along until the right time."

Sweet's song changed key, and he and the boy broke into a jiggy dance.

Pelora watched the performance. "I used to look at my parents sometimes, wondering if I ever meet someone who's that important as my mother is for my father and likewise. Father used to tell me that they weren't supposed to meet, but it happened against all odds."

Sweet did a final spin and finished his melody, then dropped down to his knees before them. "Glad you could make amends and feel better, my dears," he said grandly. "As I said before, my name is Sweet."

"And I'm Nyarth," the boy chirped.

"I'm a bard of some renown," said Sweet.

"And I have BELLS!" Nyarth declared.

"Will we be seeing you at our circus performance tonight?" Sweet inquired.

"Ah, yes, I hope so," said Pelora, smiling and applauding. "It was very lovely, thank you."

"Actually, we _will_ see the circus tonight, Sweet," said Anwen, clapping as well.

"Glad to hear it!" said Sweet. "We'll see you then. Enjoy the rest of your afternoon." He and Nyarth pranced away.

~0~0~0~

In the northern section of the mercantile district, among many necessary shops and services, was a building with a sign reading _Ulric's: Gear for Adventurers and Wanderers_. The sign caught Anwen's eye, and she found herself wandering toward the entrance, gesturing for Pelora to follow.

Inside, the place was mostly full of weapons, neatly organized on many racks and counters. Suits of armor hung from one wall, while behind the counter the weapons mounted were too perfect to be non-magical. On the back wall was assorted traveling gear, and behind that, a staircase leading to some sort of back room.

Behind the counter was a middle-aged man, very thin with a hooked nose; he had quite long blond hair and a thin beard and mustache. He looked up as they entered, and did a massive double-take at Anwen. "Rachael?" he whispered. Instantly, he circled around the counter, inspecting her. "No," he realized. "No… Anwen. You're Anwen. You must be. Right? Aren't you?"

Anwen stared at him. "I—yeah, I'm Anwen. It's me," she stammered. "But who are you and how do you know my mom?"

"Well, I—I'm Ulric! Your mother… oh, it's amazing. You don't look a thing like your father, but you don't look human either. You're your mother if she were an elf. Mind-blowing. But… where have you been? None of us have seen you since word got back that… that Rachael and Rolen were gone, that city officials had seized their home."

"I-I'm sorry," said Anwen. "I really can't recall who you are, er… Ulric."

"No?" he said. "No, I suppose you wouldn't. But… your mother and father and I and my friend Galumph were an adventuring group back in the day. Galumph and I retired before you were born, but the Ma'Sijors…" Ulric sighed, pained. "Sometimes I wonder if Galumph and I had accompanied them across the sea, the fire giants wouldn't have… but no, surely not, surely we'd have been no help at all. In the end, Rolen and Rachael were so much more powerful than us that it was stupid. HEY GALUMPH!" he suddenly called to the back room. "GET OUT HERE!"

Pelora winced.

A simply huge man emerged from the back room, a balding man with a handlebar mustache, wearing a burlap robe. "What is it?" he called grumpily.

"Galumph, look who it is," said Ulric, pointing. "It's Anwen!"

"Anwen?" said Galumph, wrinkling his face. "Anwen who?"

"Ma'Sijor, of course."

Galumph stared at her. "No… no… it looks like her, but it can't be. Anwen was a foot shorter and didn't have a rack like that."

"That's because she was ten, you idiot," Ulric said patiently. "That was eight years ago."

"Eight years," Galumph said softly. "Has it really been eight years since we lost them?" He dwelt on this for several seconds before, just like his friend, doing a double-take. "By the gods. Anwen!"

"Uh… hi?" Anwen said awkwardly. "Umm…"

"Anwen, where have you been?" Ulric said quietly. "We tried to find you, but… they left no sign that the Ma'Sijors had ever lived there. No sign of you."

"I got kicked out of my own home," Anwen said flatly, glancing at the scar on her arm. "I didn't have any place to go. Just been living in the slums for a while. I've been doing fine on my own. I'm sorry if I can't remember you."

Ulric put his hands on her shoulders. "I am so, so sorry," he said. "It's… very good to see you again, Anwen."

"Thanks, but please don't," Anwen said tiredly. "I'd say the same to you, but you guys are still kind of strangers to me. I know I've seen you before and I realize you guys were close to my parents… I wish I knew more of what to say." She averted her eyes.

Ulric smiled. "Ah, you don't have to say anything. No doubt you came here because you're on a quest." He went back around the counter. "Look at you! Are you a ranger?"

"Ermm… sort of," said Anwen, blushing. "More of an urban ranger, really. Haven't really gotten out of the city to really do… real ranger… I'm not like them, but I want to be."

"You're definitely like them," said Ulric. "I can tell from the way you carry yourself, you're every bit a warrior of the wilds." He gestured all around at the stock of the store. "Are you on a quest, then? What do you need?"

"Not necessarily a quest," said Anwen, gesturing in Pelora's direction. "Just more showing her the sights around here."

Pelora raised a hand and waved to them. "Hello."

"Hello, m'dear," Ulric replied, waving back. "Well, that's fine. But Anwen, if you ever need anything, anything at all… you can find us here. We owe you a great deal."

"Thank you," said Anwen, bowing and smiling. Pelora followed her lead.

Galumph cleared his throat. "I'm gonna keep on renovating in the back," he grunted. "Gotta get the stock of alchemical stuff back up and running. Nice to see you again, kid." He waved, very awkwardly, and retreated into the back room.

Ulric watched him go, then leaned forward. "Is there anything I can do for you right now?"

"I want to look around, if that's okay," said Pelora, raising a hand. "I'm not sure what does rangers actually do."

"Oh, sure, let me show you around a bit," said Ulric, coming around from behind the counter and bringing Pelora to the center of the shop. "A ranger… well, they're warriors who safeguard a way of life. Most of the time, it's the natural world and the frontier, but what a ranger protects is up to their own discretion. They're distinguished by their keen senses, stealth, and one of several distinct combat styles, be it archery, or various dual-wielding techniques—Anwen, I notice you carry both an axe and a sword. Are you a two-blade warrior like your mother, then?"

"Uh, yeah," Anwen said simply.

"Um, I think I might need something for a basic adventurer," Pelora said shyly. "If that's all right. Can you recommend something?"

"Ah, well, that'll be what we around here call the standard adventurer's kit," said Ulric, lifting up a backpack. "Backpack with attached bedroll, comes with finely-crafted flint and steel, a sturdy hempen rope, a waterskin, and two magical sunrods, each good for four hours of bright light. Ten crowns."

Pelora produced her handful of coins. "Is these enough?"

"That'll do it, yeah, it's only ten crowns," he said, neatly picking off ten gold coins out of her hand. "One standard adventurer's kit for you. Anything else I can offer you?"

Anwen rubbed the back of her head, bit her lip, and sighed, but ultimately patted Pelora on the back. "Good choice, Pelora."

"Really? I never used money much before, but I had a feeling this might've been worth it, and we could use it as well." Pelora cheerfully hefted her new backpack.

"Indeed you can," said Ulric. "It'll be a godsend if you're ever out on the road. Should that day ever come… come talk to us first. We'll set you up."

~0~0~0~

Anwen and Pelora rode through a dreary marketplace. A small girl sitting at the base of a fruit stand fiddled with an abacus, while a heavyset and dirty man in a leather cap stood behind it, and waved to them. "Hail!" he called out.

"Anwen, I feel very uncomfortable in this area," Pelora whispered. "Please tell me you know what this place is?"

"Yeah… this probably wasn't a good idea," Anwen admitted. "Whatever you do, don't let your guard down, don't buy anything, and just stay close to me. Understand?" She reached out for Pelora's hand. "This is the lake district… it's not that safe. Hell, I'd even say it's worse than the slums."

"I trust you'll be keeping your weapons at your sides," the fruit vendor said, eyeing Anwen's weapon belt. "You know who the law is around here, I'm sure. Best keep your noses, and your blades, clean." He held out a ripe, red fruit. "Apple?"

"I'm sorry, but no thank you," said Anwen. "Some other time maybe."

"As you will," said the vendor, tossing the apple once, then rolling it back to its place on his stand. "Watch yourselves."

"Yeah, yeah…" said Anwen, gripping Pelora's hand tighter before turning to her. "One more thing that I probably should've brought up to you is that, well, there's a turf war going on. The Black Parrots and Filth Fever. So just stay close, Pelora. We'll look around as much as we can, but we need to get out as soon as they start. Unfortunately, we can't help everyone here by fighting against them. In some ways I think Semaj's recruitment would be needed…"

Pelora nodded. "I'm not for violence anyways, it's against my beliefs."

"Well, looky what we have here." A woman emerged from a nearby filthy pub. Her eyes were covered by dark glasses, her hair concealed by a scarf, but she didn't bother to hide the fact that she had green skin and sharp fangs.

Anwen took a quick glance at her before slowing down her horse and leaning toward Pelora. "Pelora, whatever you do, don't look behind you."

"Why?"

"A medusa," Anwen said quickly. "Very bad news, very dangerous."

"I never met one, or heard of one," Pelora remarked. "Monsters weren't exactly something I learned about. Are they common?"

"'EY!" the medusa snapped, stepping out to block their path. "Don't you go muttering to each other like this is some kind of tactical encounter. I'm talkin' to you. And here's what I have to say: Get out. I don't know who you are and I don't care, I'm not taking any chances with anybody who comes riding in here like some kind of 'adventurer', trying to be noble. This is my turf. Get out."

"But we haven't done anything," Pelora objected. "My friend just show me around this city and I was curious. I'm sorry in case I offended you."

"HA HA HA—I don't care!" the medusa laughed viciously, hysterically. With no effort, she grabbed Poppy and Mertil by their snouts and pushed them backwards. "I don't care what you've done. You're not _going_ to do anything."

"Nyima, I think they're just passing through," the fruit vendor said soothingly.

"Then pass through!" the medusa sneered. "Pass through just this once. And then never again. If I ever hear about you two in this area again, it's a bounty on your heads. Ten crowns for the heads of a couple of slum elf schoolgirls who thinks they're tough shit."

"Don't touch them like that, you scare them!" Pelora exclaimed, dismounting Poppy and going to her head to comfort her. "Don't worry, girl. It's okay."

Nyima removed her glasses, revealing her snakelike yellow eyes. A beam of energy from them enveloped Pelora and Poppy. Pelora flinched away, but Poppy's hooves began to turn to stone.

Pelora screamed. "Are you crazy? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?! Poppy, my poor Poppy, what have she done to you?"

"HEY!" Anwen bellowed. "WHAT THE HELL IS YOUR PROBLEM? We weren't asking for trouble, we were just trying to mind ourselves. You can bitch at me all you want, but threatening my friend and hurting one of her horses? You're in for it!" She too leapt off her horse.

As the stone continued to spread up Poppy's legs, Nyima spat, "This is MY turf! And you're getting all up in my face! You talk about the turf war between the rats and the ravens? Let me tell you a secret, it doesn't matter! Both of those guilds belong to ME! I am the law in the lake district! I own the entire east side of this city! And no armed and armored adventurer chick is gonna mess it up for me for one single moment!"

Poppy had now turned completely to stone.

Tears ran down Pelora's face. "Poppy… my poor Poppy… how could you do such things to her? She was so harmless and peaceful. How can you ever understand the love I had for her? Have any of you a heart?!" She buried her face in the hard surface of Poppy's neck. "Anwen, just go. Take Mertil to another place."

"NYIMA!" the fruit vendor bellowed, interposing himself between Pelora and the medusa. "That was unnecessary."

"Stay out of this, Tost," Nyima sneered.

"You've made your point," he declared. "Just go."

Nyima considered it briefly. "Just go," she agreed. "Yeah. We're done here." Her shades back on, she pointed at the two of them. "If I ever hear of you passing through here again, your last thought before you die will be of how jealous you are of my great hair and beautiful eyes. I'd best see you two tweetles never." She returned to the pub, shutting the curtained door behind herself.

"What measure is beauty, hair and eyes compared to love anyways…" Pelora mumbled. "Leave, Anwen. I'm not leaving without Poppy…"

"Why that scaly bitch!" Anwen growled, marching toward the pub to pursue the medusa, but she stopped at the sound of Pelora's sobs, turning around to slowly make her way back and putting a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Pelly, I promise you I won't leave you or your horse. I was brought back to life, turning her back is probably easier."

"Actually, I think I can help you with that," said Tost. He walked up to his fruit cart and lifted up its tablecloth, revealing beneath it a collection of potions, oils, and venoms. "Oil of flesh!" he said, holding up a bottle of white oil. "Nyima doesn't mind too much that I carry these… of course, I've never discussed it with her. Probably for the best that I don't. But it can bring your horse back."

Pelora looked up at him. "R-really?" she sniffed. "You can bring back my Poppy?"

"Thank you! We'll take it," Anwen said gratefully. "…How much do you want?"

"Well, for a silver piece I'll brush your Poppy's hair and braid ribbons into it," he said, "but the potion is gonna set you back two hundred crowns."

Anwen barely hesitated before tossing him her bag of cold from Semaj. "Here, take the whole bag!" she said. "It's only twenty crowns, but I'll come back and give you more." She shook her head, ashamed.

"Twenty? Ennnhhh… a tenth of the price is not the price, miss," he said, tossing the bag back to her. "Buuuut… if it's too steep for you, I'll give you the oil if you do me a favor."

"Anything!" said Anwen. "Just help my friend's horse."

"Very well. Cleffy… put them down for a favor."

The tiny girl with the abacus ominously slid a bright red bead from one side to another.

"I'll take the deal," said Pelora, wiping her tears away with her hand. "I'll do anything for Poppy, so I will do the favor."

"All right… favor." He faltered for a moment. "I don't have any favors that need doing at the moment, but I'm sure I'll think of something. I'll, er, I'll find you at your place of residence when I've figured out something that needs doing. Don't worry, I'll find out where that is. You don't live very long in this district when you don't have a network of eyes all over. Isn't that right, Cleffy?"

"Mm-hmm," said the girl.

Tost began to pour the white oil all over Poppy's stone skin. In a moment, Poppy became living again, neighing in surprise and pawing at the ground.

Anwen sighed in relief. "Thank you so much, sir. Please do tell us whatever favor you have and we'll do it."

"Mm, I wouldn't be so optimistic," he said with a grim smile, turning to Pelora. "Well, here's your horse alive again. I hope she satisfies."

"Poppy!" Pelora squealed, hugging her and burying her face in her mane. "Dear Poppy, I promise to never risk you again! Thank you so much, kind sir, and I will do the favor you'll have for us. To find me better, my name is Pelora and I'm a cleric."

"Noted," said Tost, winking at her. "Best be on your way then, lest Nyima come out again and see you're still here."

"Yeah, probably a good idea," said Anwen, climbing back atop Mertil.

"Yes, we better leave right now," said Pelora, getting onto Poppy. "Let's leave, girl." Poppy immediately began trotting away.

~0~0~0~

Passing by a performance hall and the city's barracks, Anwen and Pelora took in a view of the river. Children, leaving school for the day, were filing by to enjoy the river themselves.

"You think that woman will be mad once she sees Poppy isn't neither petrified or in that district again?" Pelora wondered. "What do you think she would've done more to my Poppy?"

"Well… as long as she doesn't see us again I think Poppy will be okay," said Anwen. "Just let's try and limit going there, until that vendor needs us."

"Okay," said Pelora, jumping off of Poppy to get closer to the river. "I'm sorry, for causing this. I thought she could've been reasoned with, if I showed enough kindness."

"Obviously not everyone's going to accept kindness or be reasoned with," Anwen said grimly, dismounting alongside her. "I'm sorry, though… I should've known better than going there."

They were taken out of their contemplation of the river as two men burst out of a bar near the barracks. One was human, the other a hobgoblin, and they rolled across the cobblestone streets. The hobgoblin was the first to stand up—taller than a human, he had scarlet skin and a monkeyish face with sharp teeth.

"I GO WHERE I WISH!" he bellowed. "You will not prevent me!"

The human man, dark-skinned with long curly hair, growled at him, and they continued brawling.

Pelora turned to Anwen. "Should we help? They seem awfully upset."

"Let's check it out first," said Anwen, taking her hand and running with her toward the bar.

"Okay then," said Pelora.

"Stand aside, Ayhak!" the hobgoblin snarled. "I've had enough of you!"

"Your kind aren't welcome in the dirt I walk upon!" the human declared.

"HEY!" Anwen yelled. "What the hell's going on?!"

"Excuse us, kind sirs," Pelora said meekly, "but what is the matter?"

"This goblin scum is causing trouble in my bar!" said the human.

The hobgoblin crossed his arms. "I'm doing no such thing. I am merely being."

"Well, go 'be' somewhere else," the human snarled.

"Wait, he don't get to be there because of what he is?" said Pelora, visibly upset. "That can't be nice. It would be like I'm not welcome for being half-human and half-elf."

"You know, I'm hearing a lot of talk," said Anwen, "but not any actual reason for why you feel the need to kick him out of the bar. You mention his species but not any sort of real trouble."

The human man sneered at them. "Ugh, I should have expected as much from young people. I miss the days when men were men and monsters were monsters… and monsters were for young men to prove themselves by killing."

"Why?" Pelora demanded. "Why kill for fun, that's so unholy and wasting the biggest gift we have; life."

"Not to mention, what does killing monsters prove?" said Anwen. "That you can kill something? Well, I'm sure every fly being swatted at and every animal slaughtered to be part of a meal has already proven that skill overrated enough. It's easy for you to say that when authority is all you have in the way of proving yourself."

The man reached into his shirt and produced a horrid necklace made of severed ears, some of them pointy, most of them green. "Trophies," he growled. "From orcs and goblins. Whom I killed because they were orcs and goblins. They were filthy, and ugly, and for killing. Can't say that anymore! That's a big sin now! Can you even imagine? Is this the future our children want?!"

"You shut your pathetic mouth, human bastard!" the hobgoblin bellowed furiously.

Pelora covered her mouth, fighting back nausea. "Horrible… this makes me feel ashamed of being half-human. How can these people kill… for sport?"

Anwen fondled the necklace in disgust. "Yep, clearly real, and clearly someone hanging onto the old days. Shows what you've done, but you still haven't answered my question: What did he do? Because all I'm getting is someone overcompensating for something by talking about their former glory days. You aren't explaining anything in regards to his actions, just your past actions."

"I have done nothing but exist as a hobgoblin," the hobgoblin growled.

"And we're all just supposed to be okay with that?" the human replies, seething with rage and staggering drunkenly. "We're supposed to accept them into our lives as people? I know people. When I was a boy, people were humans, and elves, and dwarves… halflings… gnomes, allegedly, even though you never really saw them. Those were the good races, and all the others were the evil races, and it was easy. Why do things have to be so _difficult_ now?"

"Really now?" said Pelora, stepping over to him. "What have this person done that is so bad for you? Breathe air? Move with his limbs intact? Simply existing? Then I believe there's the wrong kind that gets to sit in their comfy chair and lament of how they can't go and murder everyone they want in cold blood. Everyone deserves to live. The question is if our decisions makes it worth it or not."

"Uh-huh, now Pelora dear, I think we're seeing the real issue," said Anwen, pointing accusatorily at the human. "You're an old-fashioned kind of ilk who can't handle change, and thus stomp your feet like a child being set in your ways rather than grow up like the rest of us. Clearly your type is going to be obsolete and you're being a coward by asserting authority rather than responsibility." She smirked.

"You're not going to get through to him with your pretty words," the hobgoblin sneered. "To him, I will never be anything but a monster, and you will ever be fools for not seeing me that way." He drew a sword. "Come," he crowed, "let us kill this fool together."

"No. Killing won't solve anything, sir," said Pelora. "Ignorance will be the downfall of many, but don't let it get to you. You're different, yes. But you are you, there's no one like yourself and that's something to be proud of. After all, if everyone were exactly the same, the world would be boring, yes?"

He turned his sword over in his hands and sheathed it. "Then you are cowards, and your compassion is merely condescension," he said darkly. "I will spend my day off work at another bar, then. But this isn't over, Ayhak. I will return." He walked away.

"A small thanks would be nice," Pelora sighed, but she smiled regardless. "I believe we're done here now, right, Anwen?"

Anwen stared after the hobgoblin. "You know, he's totally right," she said monotonously. "It's easy for us to say that what that man did is shitty, but we didn't really do anything to help. He's completely right to not thank us. Talking down someone on the nonexistent moral high ground won't help. Action would, but it's easier to do nothing but act like you have good values."

"You just don't get it, do you?" Ayhak raged. "This 'tolerance', allowing the monstrous races into our lives… it's unholy. Unnatural. An abomination. I've seen drow walking the streets of Sheradon! Drow! Of all things! Have you seen it? The dragonborn and tieflings are emerging from the ashes of their fallen empires and becoming plentiful again. And what, do you suppose, will happen to humanity, and elf-kin, and all the other good races when the monsters rule us once again?"

"The only monster I see right now is racism," Pelora said simply. "Every life has a right, so am I taught. Any call for help deserves a response. In case you have nothing more to say, I suggest you return to your bar."

"Pelora, let's just go," said Anwen. "We've gotten nowhere with this waste of breath."

"Good," Pelora agreed. "I think I must tend to Poppy anyways. She must miss me terribly much."

"So be it," Ayhak growled. "Know that you're part of the problem. History will not look upon you kindly!" He retreated into his bar.

As the two of them approached their horses once again, a nearby sewer grate popped off of its hinges and an enormous black scorpion emerged, its claws glowing with fire and ice gathering around the tip of its tail. It lifted its head to the sky and shrieked.

~0~0~0~

 **DM's Note:** _I intended to end the episode after this fight took place, but when we had to go right as I said the words "and a fucking giant scorpion comes out"—well, a cliffhanger session like that definitely merits a cliffhanger episode._

 **Player's Note from Nathalie/Pelora:** _Yes, hello. I'm Lunan95, I'm fiancée of the author and also player of the character Pelora. When he approached me with D &D first time, I was hesitant as I had never played it before and I'm always unsure of trying new things. However, trying first time on a chat room named Chatzy, it turned to be interesting. But roleplaying was a horror and I kept feeling unhappy._

 _Of course, none of it was because of my boyfriend who was organizing this, the characters, or even the game itself. It lied mostly with myself (and Chatzy is awful for roleplaying games). But it caused him to become discouraged and sad, which I felt guilty over. After a year or so, he discovered Discord and I found playing the game much more enjoyable now (highly recommending Discord)._

 _The experience has been absolutely wonderful, I keep track of each session on Saturdays and I try to be in time which isn't easy when I have most responsibility in my family, with the exception of my mom. But I genuinely loves playing D &D as I never got to play any games with friends as child. One of my high ambitions is to get a physical board game of D&D and play with my friends, in a very old school way (I love old school way, gives me a feeling of nostalgia)._

 _I'd like to thank my wonderful boyfriend, for approaching me with this idea and being patient with me. Thanks also to our friend, Kenzie (who plays Anwen) for being there when things went hard. I have very hard to adapt to changes as I have a neuropsychiatric disorder, which caused troubles for me. Starting with D &D was a huge obstacle for me, but both of them helped me through it and now, I truly enjoy playing D&D every Saturday as my weekly routine._


	7. Dark Corners

**DM's Note:** _The three episodes that make up Chapter 3 were played from mid-August to the first week of October 2018. We play on our Discord server every Saturday, starting at noon and continuing well into the night. I hope we continue to have that luxury as long as we possibly can. Who knows where we'll be a couple of years in the future. But I think we'll get through chapters faster now that the big arc of exploring the city is over._

~0~0~0~

 **WHIRLWIND**

 **Chapter 3: Women About Town  
** **Episode 7: Dark Corners**

" _There is no beauty without ugliness. Any utopia you build will have an underbelly. What can we do about it, beyond the very best that we can?"  
_ Ayanna, dragonborn priestess, 24 years before the fall

~0~0~0~

Pelora reacted instantly, shooting a beam of light at the scorpion. The beast responded by rapidly scuttling over to her and grabbing her around the waist with its red-hot claws.

Anwen's jaw dropped. "Pelora!" she yelled, drawing her weapons and charging the scorpion.

Pelora's staff glowed white as she tried and failed to escape the creature's grasp. Seeing the scorpion's claws glow brighter, she hastily cast a healing spell on herself before they erupted in fire.

The beast raised its tail, and from its stinger shot a blast of freezing air and sharp ice crystals, coating them both in a thin layer of ice and leaving Pelora in particular a battered and bloody mess.

Anwen frantically attempted to pry Pelora out of the beast's claws, and together they succeeded at freeing her. Pelora jumped back and raised her staff. White flame from above shot down at the scorpion, but it dodged elegantly and shot out another blast of cold, this one missing Pelora but bloodying Anwen.

Anwen carefully aimed her scimitar and stabbed it in the back, causing it to shriek in agony. "Yay," Anwen growled pleasantly.

Pelora raised her staff to the sky again, and divine energy washed over the three combatants, healing the pair of them almost completely and causing the scorpion to quiver with weakness. "Sweet," Anwen remarked, before springing toward the scorpion and dueling it viciously.

Pelora took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "Don't fail me now," she mumbled. "Lance of faith, hit your target!" She opened her eyes and lunged. A brilliant, blinding ray of light seared the scorpion, very nearly cutting it in two. It reared up and screeched before falling over and curling up, dead.

Pelora walked over and poked it with the butt of her staff, confirming it was dead. "So odd," she said. "It almost looked like the one we fought not long ago. But it looks a tad different. Like that strange mark on its back." She pointed to a mark imprinted on the creature's carapace.

"Yeah…" said Anwen, getting a close look at the flamelike sigil. "Bone Mask Guy…" She raised her axe. "Uh, you might want to step back," she said, before hacking at the creature.

Pelora jumped in surprise. "What are you doing?! It's already dead! Oh, Pelor, I can't stand this…" She turned away and tried not to throw up. "Anwen, please stop that…"

Anwen turned to Pelora tiredly. "You know, considering you just killed this thing, I don't understand how you can be so squeamish. Besides, this is necessary."

"Because it still lived when we were fighting and certain creatures attacks to defend themselves," Pelora counted. "What's the point to massacre a dead body anyways?"

Anwen held up the chunk of exoskeleton she had chopped off the scorpion's body, the portion containing the emblem. "You see this? Does this look familiar?"

Pelora looked at it closely. "It looks familiar, but I can't exactly place it."

"Remember yesterday at the feast?" said Anwen. "We were all sort of celebrating, then the man who… killed me…" She shook a bit at the memory, gritting her teeth. "He was demanding payment from Semaj for doing that job. I remember that the robe he was wearing had this symbol. So either he has an interesting fashion sense by having the same mark as this scorpion here, or he's involved somehow."

"You think Semaj got something to do with this?" said Pelora, her face falling. "But he doesn't have a reason to send a scorpion after us, we said we'd do it."

Anwen shook her head. "No… I wasn't really suspecting Semaj for anything… for once. I'm mostly focusing on the guy he hired to… you know. Unfortunately, since neither of us know who this guy is, Semaj will be our best bet in figuring out who he is, or even if he knows this symbol."

"Mm-hmm," Pelora said uncertainly. "So, where should we head now?"

~0~0~0~

Anwen looked around at their new destination, her eyes passing over several points of interest; a grandiose restaurant, an academy. "No," she mumbled, rubbing her chin, before she came upon the sight of a magnificent dojo. "C'mon, let's go this way," she said, pointing.

"What's that?" Pelora asked, following. "Oh, that's… a rather large place. I heard you learn to fight here, but it sounds a bit… unnecessary to me."

Anwen chuckled. "Pelly, I know a surprising amount of people around here, but I wouldn't say I went here to learn to fight. It's more of curiosity to go here, honestly."

"I just don't think violence solves everything…" Pelora mumbled as they dismounted to enter the dojo.

Inside the door was a spacious entrance hall, where a bald-headed woman in traditional martial arts garb was manning a counter. The counter was in fact a large glass tank, within which was a small constrictor snake. The two side walls of the room contained cages filled with forest foliage; a leopard paced back and forth in one, while a moose sleepily looked around in the other.

The woman straightened and bowed her head as they entered. "Greetings. I am Mai-Lin. How may I help you this day?"

"Oh, well, miss, we're just here to look at this… interesting place," said Anwen, with an attempt at a smile.

"The dojo is lovely, yes, but we don't usually take in tourists," said Mai-Lin. "Combat classes are open to any who seek them on the first of every tenday; sadly, this morning's classes have already wrapped up, but come back on the first of next month and we can set you up with some training… not that you need it, by the look of you. This dojo's primary focus is the training of children."

"Oh… sorry," said Anwen. "Thank you for saying so, and even more so for making sure kids know how to defend themselves."

"I thought this would look more violent, but this place looks quite lovely," Pelora remarked, bending down to get a good look at the snake. "Why is animals here?"

"Just a way to keep the dojo close to nature," said Mai-Lin. "It can be difficult, in a bustling city such as this, to find such a connection. The animals are rescues from poachers, and the children speak with them, spar with them."

Two children emerged from the back room, one a human, the other a goliath, gray-skinned and nearly as large as an adult human despite clearly being about ten years old. Almost at the same moment, another goliath, this one an adult male and nearly eight feet tall, entered the dojo from outside.

Pelora craned her neck up at the goliath man, awestruck. "Magnificent," she whispered.

Anwen nudged her. "She means what you're saying is fascinating," she told Mai-Lin.

"There you are, son," said the goliath man. "How'd training go today?"

"Oh, pretty good," said his son. "Leon kicked my butt." He indicated the human boy, who was over a foot shorter than he. His father raised an eyebrow, impressed.

"Well, they teach ya how to do that here," said the human boy modestly, snacking on a kebab and unashamedly staring at Anwen.

"Glad to hear it," Mai-Lin said. "Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"No, I think we're good," said Anwen. "Thank you for your time, and please, keep doing what you're doing for these kids."

~0~0~0~

"Oh, Anwen," Pelora said eagerly, pointing out a temple the moment they exited the dojo. "We must check out the temple."

Anwen shrugged her shoulders and followed.

Inside, the octagonal temple was divided neatly into thirds: part of it bathed in gold light, part of it in blue, the third left in darkness. The gold and blue sections were full of artifacts and art, and each included a life-size statue, while the dark area was nearly empty, containing nothing but a featureless altar.

Pelora gasped. "This… this is the temple of the three elven gods!" she exclaimed, pointing to the statue of a male elf. "Behold, this is Corellon Larethian, the god of magic, and he represents the wood elves." She turned to the blue section and skipped toward the statue of an elven woman. "Oh my… that is the goddess of moon, Sehanine. She represents the high elves. She's considered a colleague to Pelor; she is the moon to Pelor's sun. Isn't this wonderful, Anwen? Pelor, Corellon, and Sehanine are also the gods of the seasons: summer, spring, and autumn!"

Anwen smiled and nodded. "That's awesome, Pelly."

A woman seated in the temple stood up and smiled as well. "Quite knowledgeable, sister of Pelor. You are welcome among us."

Pelora's immediate reaction was to flinch away in fear; the woman was a drow, a tall and beautiful elf, black-skinned, white-haired, and red-eyed. Pelora recovered and straightened herself. "Many thanks," she said, bowing her head. "I see you worship Lolth, whom Corellon regards as a sister."

"Er, no, actually I worship Corellon," she said dryly. "Easy mistake to make, seeing as I happen to be a drow. What a time to be alive, eh? Not everybody is all too happy to see a dark elf as this city's sitting representative of Corellon, but… hey, at least it's legal. That's a start."

Anwen nodded slowly.

The drow waved her hand dismissively. "Not a big deal, not a big deal—let's start over." She extended a hand to Pelora. "I am Vraedna Ra'nuul, priestess of Lord Corellon Larethian. Good to meet you."

"Oh, I am Pelora, daughter of the clerics Newserge of the temple of Pelor," said Pelora, shaking her hand. "I was named after the god of sun for unknown reasons, though."

"Pelora, eh?" said Vraedna. "Yeah, your parents never gave you a chance, did they? What the heck else were you gonna grow up to be?" She chuckled. "And both your parents clerics, too? Well… my mother was a cleric too. Of Lolth. I usually don't talk about her. But enough about me. Always nice to see a child of the sun in here."

"Thank you," said Pelora. "Oh, and this is my very good friend, Anwen."

"Uh… hi?" said Anwen, waving.

"Yo," said Vraedna, giving Anwen a thumbs-up. "Oh, and that's Illindrith, she's our priestess of Sehanine." A little eladrin girl waved at them from the back of the room. "What brings you two ladies to our temple?"

"Oh, I saw this wonderful temple and decided to give my friend a small tour of knowledge, as she doesn't know much about gods," said Pelora with a smile. "Besides, I was also curious of which of the gods resided here."

Vraedna shrugged. "Well, it's just your usual elf temple. You got Corellon, Sehanine, and then a big empty space for Lolth just in case she ever decides to stop being a colossal bitch. I take it you know that story."

"Ah, yes, I do know the story," Pelora confirmed.

"Um… I don't, honestly," said Anwen curiously.

Vraedna waited a moment, looking at Pelora expectantly. "…You're not gonna tell it? Hmm, I was hoping you would. You were real cute explaining Corellon and Sehanine. Ah, that's no problem. It's an uncomfortable story. My race's patron… well, 'bitch' was an understatement. 'Raging, genocidal fuckhead' would be more apt… ah, but Corellon doesn't like that kind of talk. In spite of it all, she is his sister. We elves are taught to hope that one day Lolth will see a brighter path. But not to count on it."

"Yikes," Anwen cringed. "Well, that god sounds charming."

"Lolth? Well, she _is_ charming, that's the dangerous part. She's convinced an entire third of elvenkind to follow her and live in the underground scheming away at her plans. Some of us… some of us do get away from it, though." She straightened up proudly. "I have no fear of evil gods, and nor should you."

"Never said I was afraid of them," said Anwen, crossing her arms. "Honestly, it's just more indifference. I mean, good on you for not believing in a psycho god."

"Thanks," Vraedna said sincerely. "It's, ah… it's not easy to leave. If it was easy, you'd see a lot more drow around on the surface world, I think."

"But either way, thank you for your time and for sharing your knowledge with my friend," said Pelora. "I could've told, yes. But it's a knowledge I always have been uncomfortable with, in worry of offending others."

Vraedna laughed bitterly. "Ah, there's nothing you can say that could offend a drow. They've heard it all before. Just, you know, don't go around testing that theory." She dipped into a grand bow. "Well, if you're off on your way, then, best of fortune and the blessings of the four seasons upon you."

"Many thanks, and may you receive best of luck as well," said Pelora, bowing back.

~0~0~0~

They entered the southernmost point of Sheradon, a crowded area with many inns, booths, and attractions. Riding through a small crowd, Anwen reached out to grab Pelora's arm. "Okay, listen, this place will probably have people trying to sell you useless stuff, so just ignore them and don't buy anything."

Pelora nodded. "Don't worry, I wouldn't buy anything anyways. Unlike others, clerics have no use to materialism. That's why we're quite happy with the gifts the gods grant on us in life, such as fruit trees."

Anwen snorted. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. But sometimes you can't just rely on Pelor or any higher being to just fix things or give you anything. You gotta work for it, take action." She patted the chunk of the scorpion's exoskeleton she was carrying on her horse's back. "Hoping and praying can only do so much for someone who doesn't have any sort of safety net."

Pelora shrugged. "Having belief in yourself is important as well."

Up ahead was a large globe, eight feet in diameter and intricately carved and painted. A tour guide was explaining the globe to a small crowd of people.

"This is one of the most prized treasures of Sheradon," she was saying, "a masterfully-crafted globe of the World. Our ancestors called this planet 'Nanhias', though most people today are content to simply call it 'the World'."

She gestured to the globe, half of it being taken up by two continents. The westernmost one extended all the way from north to south and was narrow in the middle, while the eastern one had jagged coastlines all over and was mostly in the north, barely extending beyond the equator. Finely-painted calligraphy on the globe labeled the western continent Arkhosia and the eastern one Bael Turath.

The tour guide gestured to these words. "Arkhosia and Bael Turath once referred to the empires that dominated the two continents, but now that there are no empires left in the world, the names refer only to the landmasses themselves. Our city of Sheradon was once part of northern Arkhosia—indeed, our very own temple of Bahamut is one of the oldest standing buildings in the world, having existed since the days of the empires. The empires fell five hundred and ninety-one years ago, if you take the Salvatorean calendar, in which the current year is 591, as accurate—no one can say for sure."

The tour guide's voice faded away as they proceeded on horseback through the district. One booth sold exotic pets: ferrets, winged reptiles, and one large black octopus-like creature with many red eyes, which floated upon the air in the middle of its large cage.

At another booth, a tiefling man with vibrant orange skin presented an assortment of oddly-shaped bottles. "Young sellswords," he said to them in a rich voice. "A selection of venoms to give your blades more bite?"

"Er… no thanks," said Anwen, averting her eyes and urging Mertil to move a bit faster. The man thoughtfully watched them leave.

Further south, near the gate, they saw a chariot barreling down the street, the horse pulling it clearly spooked and out of control, heading straight for a lone woman walking out in the open.

Pelora gasped. "That woman is in danger. Hurry, Poppy!"

The two of them kicked their horses into action, Pelora riding for the woman, Anwen to the chariot. Pelora reached out and grasped the woman's arm, but her hand slipped, the woman fell, and Poppy galloped onward.

Anwen went for the chariot, ramming the panicked horse, which stumbled. The chariot fell onto its side, spilling its driver into the dust of the road, and the fallen horse skidded to a stop inches away from the woman.

Pelora pulled the reins to stop Poppy and jumped down to help the woman. "I'm so sorry!" she said. "I thought I could help like that, but I failed." She offered a hand to her. "Are you hurt?"

Anwen gritted her teeth and jumped down off her own horse, walking toward the fallen chariot driver. "Sorry," she said, biting her lip. "You really should watch where you're going."

The rider, a thin man in a puffy fur coat, slapped her hand away. "Don't touch me!" he shrieked. "You've ruined my horse, my chariot, and my coat! And now you tell me to watch where I'm going! Hmph!"

"Sir, you lost control of your horse and chariot," Pelora said tersely, turning to him. "Thanks to your carelessness, you could've seriously harmed or worse, killed a woman in the way. You should thank Pelor that nothing serious happened. As for your coat, I don't believe its worth is more than a life."

Anwen nodded. "Besides, your horse seems perfectly fine to me. If this is how you're clearly going at it, then I think you'll be fine." She turned to the woman. "You okay, ma'am? I'm sorry for what happened."

"I am well," she said slowly. "Thank you." Though human by most appearances, she was the strangest person they had seen all day: she wore a gold-colored robe which was many-layered to resemble armor plating and came up only to her sternum, leaving her breasts bare. Most of her face was concealed by a white veil and curtains of dark hair, revealing only her eyes, which were nearly as reflective as a mirror.

The man stomped over to his horse, which was breathing heavily as it lay on its side, its eyes still rolling madly. "Now, what could have gotten into you?" he said contemptuously. "Oh, well. That's it for all these things. Time for new ones." He whipped off his coat, threw it to the ground, and stormed away, leaving coat, horse, and chariot behind.

Pelora knelt over the horse. "Oh, you poor thing… you just got abandoned like that? I wonder what could've frightened you so much." She stroked it soothingly and turned to Anwen. "Anwen, what do we do now? We can't leave this horse."

The woman's face scrunched up weirdly. "Well, if a third horse is more than you two can handle, I'll take it and the chariot off your hands," she said wildly, before returning to her previous slow serenity. "Ah, that is to say, if that would be acceptable."

"Of course," Anwen said dispassionately.

"Oh, then this horse would get a kind owner," Pelora said in delight. "That man just abandoned everything, but I believe this will be all right. Oh, and you should probably give him a new name since you're his new owner."

"You and your horses, Pelly," Anwen chuckled.

"Well, yes, I would, as I never _did_ catch the name the previous owner gave it," said the woman. "But more importantly— _my_ name. I am Khaluena. You have my thanks for my rescue." She ran her fingers through her hair. "You'll have to forgive my greedy outburst—it seems I lost my grip on my emotions and the fearful quori spirit within me, well… you know how it goes. Or do you? I do not see as many kalashtar in the lands of Arkhosia as there were back home in Bael Turath."

"Look, don't worry about it," said Anwen. "You did nothing wrong, just try and be careful next time and take care of the horse."

"Indeed! Let's get the poor thing back on its hooves." She bent down over the chariot horse. "There you go, boy; you're okay. Just took a little spill. You're not hurt." The horse, seemingly calmed from its frenzy, slowly began to right itself.

"You must have travelled far if you come from Bael Turath," Pelora remarked. "Are you sure you will be all right on your own?"

"Well, better now that I've my own horse and chariot," she said wryly. "I've been doing just fine on my own here. I just need to get out of the touristy parts of town. I am a campaigner against slavery, you see, and thirty years ago Sheradon became the first city in the natural world to completely outlaw the practice. I'm here to see how the city makes this economically feasible and take the solutions back to my own home, and elsewhere if I can."

"Would you like an escort out?" asked Anwen. "Where would you want to go?"

"Oh, that is a good thing," Pelora said with approval. "I'm also against slavery, the matter is so horrible. Everything should be free in its own way."

"That's what everyone believes, but some people just think the economy couldn't survive its abolition," Khaluena said sadly. "But Sheradon seems to be doing all right for itself. Ah, no, thank you, I'm just on my way to City Hall. I have an appointment there." She patted the horse. "Come along then, boy."

Anwen nodded respectfully. "Well, Khaluena, if you need any sort of help, we'll do so, because what you're doing is worth fighting for."

"Worth fighting for?" It was the tiefling who had offered them venoms, now standing beside them out in the streets. "Are you aware of whom you just let go? That jerk with the coat was Alduin Fivetails, wealthy land owner from Shakagho. Quite the peddler of venoms himself. Trader of slaves, poacher of exotic animals. The world would have been better off if you had slain him, but you just… let him go. Kind of intriguing, really. But it seems you like to fight a good fight."

"Nothing solves with violence," said Pelora. "We only get blood on our hands for nothing. Besides, nothing goes unpunished by the gods. He will sooner or later receive his rightful punishment."

"Yeah, but doing nothing doesn't solve anything," Anwen said with gritted teeth. "You saw how quickly that man threw away his horse and chariot and stupid coat! You think just hoping and praying will just have him either change his mind or get punished his own way?" She snarled, curling her hands into fists at her sides. "If I had known… he's gonna continue to do this type of thing and continue to give less of a fuck."

"Ah, my dear lady, what if _you_ are that rightful punishment?" the tiefling said, leaning close to Pelora. "Pelor seldom directly strikes men down with bolts from the heavens. Perhaps it's time for you to act on Pelor's wishes? Yes… yes, I think that would make for a most intriguing deal. Here is my deal… slay Alduin Fivetails—for which I gain no benefit, mind you—and for this heroic act I will see to it that you are given certain protections here in Sheradon. How does that sound?"

Pelora turned away in disgust. "I don't take lives just like that! I'm a cleric, we never take lives unless it's an emergency."

"You are _really_ impossible, you know that?" Anwen yelled, stomping over to her. "You act like you're so pure and kind and non-violent, when violence and _your_ violence is how we've been able to solve our problems all day. Yet you say doing nothing is the right way to go? Because that's all you've suggested, despite how fucking effective that's been, while he'll continue to sell people and poach!" She turned to the tiefling. "I'll do it. But if you have nothing to gain, then why would you give any sort of protection?"

Pelora turned back and inspected him briefly, and her eyes widened with sudden realization. "You're not a tiefling," she said. "Anwen, don't trust what he says. He's not a tiefling, he's a vizier devil."

"And so what if I am?" he said without missing a beat. "I'm just a guy trying to make a living. I see heroes, the alarm bell for deals goes off in my mind. What do you say?" He turned to Anwen. "You kill Fivetails just to prove you can and I'll make you the hero Sheradon deserves."

Pelora shook her head. "Don't do it, Anwen," she pleaded. "They trick and corrupt humans onto the path of evil. You're too good for that."

Anwen glanced at Pelora, then faced the devil. "Where's Fivetails' place of business?" she asked, drawing her axe and spinning it once before slamming it to the ground. "If I'm going to do anything about this man then I want to know the truth."

Pelora sighed heavily. "I'll mourn your lost soul," she said quietly, turning to Poppy.

"Baatezu pride themselves on always telling the truth," the devil said smoothly. "Fivetails works in Shakagho, two hundred miles to the southeast. How long he's staying here, I know not. A respected public figure, but his criminal empire may or may not crumble without him. It would be worth a shot, no?"

"Pelor curse you for eternity," Pelora muttered.

Anwen leaned forward. "Is that where he's selling them?" she whispered.

"Yes indeed," he replied.

Anwen smirked and turned back to Pelora. "Pelora, I'm going to Shakagho. You may join me if you wish, but if you'd still rather stay out of it, go with Khaluena. You two might need to inform City Hall of Fivetails' activities." She winked.

"I could do that," Pelora said viciously, climbing atop her horse. "Do what you wish, but I pray your soul won't be corrupted."

"Now, hang on a minute," Khaluena said with a bit of panic. "You can't put away a Shakaghoan crime lord for simply hanging around in Sheradon. Slave trade is perfectly legal where he comes from and does his business. That's the sad reality of it. Miss, are you really intending to go after this man on the word of a devil?"

"Who says I'm going after the man?" Anwen said smugly.

"You said so, minutes ago," Pelora said blankly. "Oh, let's not forget the fact you rather listen at a devil than a friend as me."

"It's a four-day ride to Shakagho, miss," the devil piped up. "The mastermind is right here in the south gate district. Wouldn't it be so much better to simply cut the head off the snake?"

"If by better you mean simpler?" said Anwen. "No, any sort of suffering this man deserves should be more prolonged."

"Miss…" Khaluena gently put a hand on Anwen's shoulder. "A one-woman crusade to Shakagho isn't going to help anyone right now. Myself, I'm going to City Hall to find out how to end slavery starting at the top. You're my hero, miss, but I can see you're still green to the ways of the world. I can see that you are a warrior, but I don't think you can fight the entire city of Shakagho."

"I know," said Anwen. "I'm not going to fight the city."

"If I may ask, do tell what's on your mind," said the vizier devil. "I'm intrigued, but I'm having trouble reading exactly where you're going with this."

"You may not ask, as you're doing more harm than good," Pelora said sharply. "As for now, this is none of your business anymore." She crossed her arms and glared at him.

Anwen avoided looking at her. "Pelora. You may choose to come with and fight, or stay back and do nothing. Debating can only do so much, but planning can do better."

Pelora dismounted, wound up, and struck Anwen hard in the head with her staff.

"OWW!" Anwen groaned, doubling over and dropping her axe.

"Snap out of it!" Pelora shouted. "We can't help everyone! If we could, don't you think we have to save every person on this huge planet? It's impossible, and what are we? A novice cleric and an urban ranger. We can't do this alone and without any sort of experience. We have to let it slide for now."

"Oh, gods," Anwen muttered dizzily, righting herself. "I'm… clearly not in… sure of my mind… at the moment." She turned to the devil. "Maybe some other time, brother… bye-bye. Thank you, Pelly. You are always right. Now… which horse is mine?"

"Mertil," Pelora said tersely. "No, the cream-colored is Poppy. Let's leave this place."

"Wow," the devil remarked to Khaluena. "You know, I was actually going to _make_ them hit each other, then they did it anyway."

"Silence," Khaluena growled at him, making a fist. He flinched away from her, eyeing her with extreme caution.

"I'd suggest you'll stop meddling in business that doesn't concern you," said Pelora. "Otherwise, I won't be so kind next time. That is my warning." She turned her back on the devil and mounted her horse. Anwen had already done so, and was staring around blankly, still reeling from the sharp blow to the head. "I'm sorry," said Pelora, "but I had no choice."

Anwen nodded, tugging at Mertil's mane. "Did you have a fun time here?" she asked.

"In a sense, yes," said Pelora. "But we better continue so you get some fresh air and come to your sense. Perhaps I have enough coins for something cheap to drink…" She produced her coins and counted them. "Are you thirsty, perhaps?"

"Thirsty? Oh, thirst. Thirst, thirst, thirst, thirst. I am parched," Anwen chattered. "The salt I'm-a getting from everyone is making me want to drink it all in! Onward Merpiderp!"

~0~0~0~

The two of them were walking alongside their horses as they entered the graveyard district. The area was crossed and shaded by walkways for enjoying the scenery and landscaping from above, and butterflies flew all around feeding on the flowers laid over the graves. The only building in the area was a small temple.

Anwen took a deep breath, relaxing her shoulders. "I like this," she muttered, scanning the many graves. She shivered a bit and instinctively headed for the temple.

"This is a depressive place," Pelora said aloud. Seeing the symbol of a raven's head above the doors of the small temple, she pulled away. "Oh no…" she mumbled, before loudly exclaiming, "Oh my, look at how green the leaves are!"

Anwen turned and raised an eyebrow at her. "Pelora? What's going on? You usually rush up to these things. What's your deal?"

"Nothing!" Pelora squeaked. "The… trees are beautiful this time of year. And they have acorns!" She pointed to a tree branch, wincing when she realized the tree she was indicating was actually a pine.

Before Anwen could reply, a ghostly wail filled their ears, muffled cries for help.

Pelora gasped. "Where does it come from? We have to help!"

Anwen followed the sound. "Hello? Hello!" she called out. "Feel for how soft the ground is," she ordered Pelora, crawling down to the ground. "We're going to help you!"

She found the source of the sound, where the voice's owner was lightly shifting the earth from beneath.

"Pelora! I found them!" Anwen called, beginning to dig with her bare hands. "Okay, we're gonna get you out, just take slow deep breaths."

Pelora threw down her staff and began to dig as well. "Don't worry, we'll get you out!" she shouted. "Stay so calm as you can, and don't panic!"

Soon, they had unearthed a black-haired teenage boy. They helped him to his feet, and he brushed off the last layer of dirt, straightening his neckline calmly. "Thank you," he said in a quavering voice. "I… I really thought I was done for."

"Goodness, if we haven't taken this path, then we wouldn't found you in time," Pelora remarked. "Who did such thing to you? It can't been a mistake, no human would bury someone without confirming a death cause. It's outrageous, this is preposterous."

"It was no mistake," the boy said nervously. "Those roughnecks buried me to get rid of me. They buried me and made off with my treasure."

"Such insolence!" Pelora exclaimed angrily. "Who are they, and did you see where they ran off to? They should learn a lesson about the value of life before treasures, those greedy pigs!"

"Ah, but this was quite a treasure I found," he said wistfully. "The museum would have paid a high price for it, as it's an important piece of Arkhosian history. I hired my two schoolmates, Raig and Rouk, to help me deliver it… but once they found out what I had, they tried to get rid of me and went to sell it themselves. I would imagine they don't know where the museum is… I think they said something about selling it in the river district."

"So now we don't only have murder attempt, but also theft and selling it?" said Pelora, crossing her arms. "I don't imagine Pelor will be so benevolent once they meet their fate and faces their judgment."

Anwen crossed her arms and raised her eyebrow. "Who cares if they stole it? They still tried to murder the kid. Is there any way we can help?"

"Um…" he said uncertainly. "Well, heck, you look like you're fighter types. Weapons, armor. If we could go to the river district and get it back from them…"

"Got it!" said Anwen. She started guiding him toward the horses.

"O-okay," he said in alarm. "Wow, right… right to it… that's great, thanks. I'm Povel, by the way."

Pelora mounted her horse. "Anwen, I hope you know the way from here. Because I don't think I can memorize every district in this town. Do you know any shortcuts?"

Anwen let out a small gasp; she had dragged Povel onto her horse with her and, in terror, he had wrapped his hands around her midsection, grasping her tightly. "We'll get there, and quickly, girl," she said.

~0~0~0~

They came upon a market in a more residential area of the river district. Sitting behind Anwen on Mertil's back, Povel scanned the market streets. "There!" he said, pointing. Two teenage boys stood in an empty space between two booths, where they had set up a sealed, man-sized box.

"What's the plan?" asked Pelora. "Maybe if I leave my chainmail and pretend to be normal?"

Anwen scratched her chin. "Well, you do look like you could afford things. Bartering them might help. Povel, you go and find some authority and I'll try to salvage what they stole while Pelora's distracting them."

"Right," he said. "The city barracks are nearby, I'll try to round up a couple of guards." He scampered off.

Pelora removed her chainmail armor and cape. "All right," she mumbled to Anwen. "I can pretend being normal, probably. They don't look too sharp." With only her robe and staff, she jumped off of Poppy's back and made her way toward them slowly.

"Hello," she said pleasantly. "Pelor bless you on this wonderful day. But I wonder what is this strange thing?" She tapped the box with her staff.

They looked at her with immediate suspicion. "It's a… thing," one of them grunted.

"A beautiful thing for a beautiful lady," the other said hastily. "You can try it on as soon as we… get it out of the box…"

"Yeah, we really didn't think this through," the first boy muttered.

"Zip it, sure we did," said the other. "A hundred crowns for our mysterious… beautiful thing. What do you think, miss?"

Pelora fished in her pocket for the pink pearl she had acquired from the old grandmother. "This pearl is worth a hundred crowns," she said sweetly. "Will it be enough?"

Meanwhile, Anwen was sneaking around to approach from behind. Silently making her way through several booths, she reached the box and attempted to pry it open, while the boys scrambled over each other, trying to get a good look at the pearl.

"Is that a real pearl?"

"You really think it's worth a hundred crowns?"

"We might totally be losing money on this pearl for the thing… thing…"

Finding that the box wouldn't open, Anwen attempted to drag it away.

"I got this pearl as a gift and I was told it was worth a hundred crowns," Pelora continued.

"All right, well, you can go ahead and take the… box…"

The boys turned around, and quite clearly saw Anwen slowly dragging it away.

"Ffffff…" Pelora hissed.

"Oh, shit," Anwen said, freezing. She glanced at Pelora, and quickly regained her composure. "You know, I'm pretty sure this doesn't belong to you," she said, sitting down on the box. "I mean you two obviously have no idea what you're talking about when selling this to a random chick with a pearl. So I'll just wait here for the box's owner."

"Oh no you don't!" the boy snarled, raising a club.

Anwen stood up right away, her axe instantly in her hand, and dueled the boy. The other boy swung his own club, cracking it across Anwen's jaw and knocking out one of her teeth.

Pelora raised a hand and shot a bright flash of light at the boy who had hit Anwen, felling him. Alarmed, the boy engaged in combat with Anwen turned around. Pelora pointed her staff at him. "You really shouldn't have done that," she said. "Not only you're a thief, but you seriously harm and almost kill innocents. I don't stand for that, in Pelor's name!"

Anwen let out a cry and swung her axe once more, snarling in frustration when the attack didn't land. Panicking at her ferocity, he clubbed her in the chest.

Pelora swung her staff elegantly and closed her eyes, emitting another shining light which threw him backward onto the ground, unconscious.

"That was it," Pelora said, relaxing her shoulders.

"Nice," Anwen said approvingly.

"Thanks."

Anwen wiped her mouth. "Well, this wasn't as planned but it got the job done," she said, looking at the two boys, both knocked out cold. "We should probably wait for Povel and the guards to show up just in case they get back up." She sat down on the box and patted a spot next to her.

In a few short minutes, Povel returned with two city guards: a man with a sword and dagger, and a woman with a halberd. He skidded to a stop when he saw the two thugs knocked out. "Whoa. What happened here?"

"That I can tell you," said Pelora, standing up and dusting herself off. "These two stole this box from the gentleman by your side, Povel, and tried to bury him alive so they could sell it and get away with the money. Me and my friend Anwen stopped them from their crimes."

"Well, mostly Pelora," said Anwen, scanning the streets beneath her boots. "I… flailed around." Finding two tiny objects on the ground, she picked them up, pocketing her tooth and tossing Pelora's pearl back to her. She then dragged the box across the ground to Povel. "Well, here's your stuff, kid. Try to be careful with who you ask for help."

The female guard turned to her companion. "What do you think? Open and shut?"

The male guard cracked his neck. "Wouldn't kill us to investigate a bit. What exactly is this special treasure, kid?"

Povel began to open the box. "It's an art object of a certain value," he explained. "Fifteen hundred crowns, if I'm not mistaken. It's a remnant from the days of Arkhosia. The Arkhosian empire rose some seven hundred years ago on this continent; the empire of Bael Turath rose on the world's other continent soon after in response. They lasted only about a century before destroying each other in a war full of dirty tactics and evil magics. This was five hundred and ninety-one years ago, and the world is… well, it's okay. It's a lot emptier than it used to be, but it's okay."

"Skip the history lecture, buddy," said the male guard. "What's in the box?"

"Just wanted to make sure you got the gravity of it," Povel said enthusiastically. "This treasure comes from the days of the empires, meaning it's very nearly six hundred years old. Behold…" He removed the lid from the box, and from it produced several articles of gold cloth. "Lingerie, woven of pure Arkhosian gold," he said grandly. "It's been lost for centuries."

Pelora stared. "Have I fought these guys for the sake of a couple of underwear?" she demanded. Anwen stifled a laugh.

" _Historical_ underwear," said Povel. "Pure gold, ma'am. Of great historical and inherent value. I was going to sell it to the museum… this treasure would have made me a wealthy man. But having it within my arm's reach got me buried alive. You two ladies have given me a far greater treasure—my life and safety. And for that, I give my treasure to you. Do with it as you will. Sell it to the museum, or, I don't know, wear it in the bedroom. Or if you're in the mood for a treasure hunt of your own, it's said to be part of a trio. What the other two items in the trio are, I couldn't tell you, but it's said that when united they have a certain magic. But regardless… thank you." He held out the garments to Pelora.

"W-wait, what?" Pelora stammered, staring at the golden items and looking helplessly at Anwen.

Laughing, Anwen stepped forward. "Uh… why don't you just put that back in the box and we'll… er, do something with it. Oy…"

"As you will," said Povel, replacing it in the box and closing the lid. "It's a lot easier to carry without the box, though… not sure what I was thinking… anyway, I'm off. Thank you again for saving me." He departed.

The female guard looked enviously at the closed box. "That's pretty hot," she remarked. "Ah, well."

"Come on," said her partner. "These two mugs need medical attention. Let's get them to a temple."

The guards carried the unconscious roughnecks away, leaving Anwen and Pelora alone. Anwen opened the box and took the lingerie, carrying it back to Mertil.

~0~0~0~

They arrived back in the slums district just as the sun was beginning to set.

Anwen jumped off her horse and took a look around. "So, yeah… you've seen this place," she said, fiddling with her detached tooth. "Not much of interest here, but it's my home, and home for a lot of people."

Pelora looked down at her, concerned. "Do you feel odd without a tooth?" she said. "If you want, I could try to heal so you could get back your tooth in place?"

Anwen shrugged. "You could try if you want, but I don't think it's necessary."

Pelora took the tooth and set it into place in Anwen's mouth, and cast her healing spell. Anwen was healed of all the remaining injuries she had sustained through the day, but the tooth was expelled, dropping to the ground once again.

"Oh, I'm sorry," said Pelora. "I suppose I couldn't do much."

"Hey, don't worry about it, Pelly," Anwen said comfortingly. "I'm still able to eat, I can still move, talk, it's kind of to be expected."

Nearby, Heather and Marcus were working in the community garden, a bed of flowers and vegetables, along with a few other residents, while Sora served drinks, pausing to wave at Anwen. Chickens strutted around the garden, some of them taking to the streets.

Anwen waved back and grinned at Sora. "It's times like this that I feel happy to be here," she said to Pelora. "We don't have a lot but we have each other, you know?"

"Yes, I understand that," Pelora replied. "So, now we have seen the entire town and all its districts."

Sora approached them. "Hi."

"Hey," said Anwen. "Yep, more or less, yeah we did."

Nearby, they spotted an old man—the same man that Atasha and Rhea had cornered the other night, sitting in the same back alley where Anwen had seen him before, shivering and quivering just as he had been then.

Pelora jumped off of Poppy, worried. "We should probably help him out."

Anwen nodded and cautiously approached the old man. "Hey, uh, sir, you okay?"

He edged away. "Get away, ya hooligan," he slurred.

"Hooligan?" Anwen said blankly. "Oh, no, I'm not Atasha or Rhea." She showed him her empty hands.

"Who?" he demanded. "I don't care who you are. You're a young woman. A young woman tried to mug me. Two young women saved me, but it turned out they just wanted to shake me down. When a fourth young woman shows up, what am I to think? That she's any different? I don't think any of the youth have a good bone in their bodies anymore."

Pelora knelt down and offered him a hand. "Everyone isn't mean, sir. There's still some good people in this world, who cares for each other. Sometimes it's hard to find, but I can assure you that the both of us are. But if you want to test us, you may."

"Feh!" he said, continuing to skitter away. "Well, how should I believe that? Nobody's who they say they are anymore. The whole city's been bejangled up. Maybe once there was hope it could be better, but that hope is completely useless now." He stood up, with noticeable effort, and began to walk away.

Anwen sighed. "Look, I don't blame you for thinking that way," she said tiredly. "People can be awful and make you just want to be a recluse because there's no hope. But there is that little bit of good in people even if you don't think there is. I'm not asking for friendship, only just to know if you need anything."

"Leave me alone!" he said hysterically, waving her off.

Anwen backed away, letting him leave.

Pelora shook her head. "Let's leave. It's evident that those snakes has ruined everything… again." She sighed, and together they walked out of the alley. "Those two, Rhea and Atasha. They can't just ruin everything, can they? They can just leave forever for what I care."

"Eh," said Anwen, shrugging. "They're obnoxious and a pain in the ass but I wouldn't really want them dead. Injured, hurt, or punished in some way, but I don't think permanently gone. They're a good reminder, you know?"

"Ah, that guy's full of crap." They turned to see it was Atasha speaking, Rhea as always a few steps behind her. "The world's always been like this. Trust me, I'm almost as old as he is. He remembers a time when he was simpler, too young and cheerful to notice that his family struggled, that everyone was out to get everyone else. And he thinks the whole world was simpler and happier then. It's a common problem. A human problem. Humans can never get a good grip on reality, they always think everything is substantially better or worse than it really is." She tilted her head at them. "I wonder if you two big-shots are elf enough to see things as they really are."

"Speak of the King That Crawls and he shall appear," Pelora sighed, turning to Anwen. "Did you hear something, my friend? I think a dog is barking somewhere."

"Say whatever you want, it rolls off me," Atasha said flippantly. "I learned long ago that no matter what you do in life, fifty percent of the world is gonna hate you for it. I'm used to it."

"Now I think a cow is mooing," Pelora remarked. "Really, Anwen. What is the matter with all these animals?"

"Yeah, fuck you too!" Atasha snarled, extending her middle finger at them and stalking away toward her home. Rhea, alarmed, followed suit.

Anwen chuckled. "Oh, Pelly, I haven't felt this much fun in forever. You are just… perfect."

Pelora nodded. "Unlike last time, I didn't wanted another fight with those two. Besides, it was quite lucky I recalled what my father told me about ignore insults."

"That was awesome," Sora chirped.

"Oh, she is," Anwen agreed. "You should've seen her today, Sora."

Semaj appeared then, walking by the garden and giving a little wave and nod to the people working within. "Ah, ladies," he said. "Hoped I'd find you here. I've got the tickets. You ready?" He held up a few small slips of parchment. "It's about that time."

"Eep!" Sora squeaked, hiding behind Anwen.

Pelora's cheeks went pink. "Time for what?"

Anwen patted Sora's head comfortingly. "Uh, yeah," she said. "Let me just drop a few things off at my place, alone." She walked up to Mertil, taking the golden lingerie off her back and bringing it back to her apartment.

Semaj beamed at Pelora. "Anwen told me to get tickets to the circus tonight. Got a few to spare, if your young friend wants to join us."

Sora peered at him suspiciously.

"Ah, the circus, I almost forgot," Pelora giggled nervously. "Um… any good seats, then?"

"Only the very best ones," he said, winking.

Anwen climbed the ladder into her apartment and tossed the garment randomly into a corner before taking a look around, her eyes falling on her mother's goggles. Hesitating, she picked them up from their spot, smiled, and strapped them to her forehead. She checked herself in the mirror. "Yeah," she assured herself, before jumping down through the hole in her floor.

As she returned, Semaj beamed at the sight of the goggles. "Aw, you're wearing it! That's great. Hope you're not planning on using it to mess up the illusionists at the show. That wouldn't be proper audience decorum, I don't think."

"No," Anwen stated simply. "Before we go there's one more thing I need to do." She swept over to Mertil and pulled off the piece of scorpion skin, shoving it into Semaj's face. "What do you know about this symbol?"

He jumped in surprise as she thrust it forward, before inspecting it, stroking his chin. "That, uh, that'll be the symbol of Imix, the Fire Lord. Bone Mask Guy wears this symbol. Where… where did you get it? What is this, some kind of chunk of armor?"

"It was on the back of another scorpion monster we fought earlier," said Pelora. "It looked more different than the ones that attacked the slums, almost as if it was mutated."

Anwen stared. "I'm sorry, what? Fire Lord? The hell is that? What do Bone Mask Guy and the scorpions have to do with whoever he is?"

Pelora clapped her hands to her mouth. "The Fire Lord…?" she whispered. "Then it must be true! Evil is truly lurking around."

"Easy, easy," Semaj said soothingly. "I don't know much about the Fire Lord—not more than anyone else. So… you're saying this… this is a piece of a scorpion's exoskeleton? Eww!" He backed away from it. "Mutated… that sounds like the sort of thing a Fire Lord cultist would do, mutate a creature to… oh my goodness. Bone Mask Guy sent a scorpion after you? How strange… I can't think of any reason he'd want to continue opposing you… unless he's convinced himself that you're a threat." His face broke out in a grin. "How very intriguing!"

"How can you say such things?" Pelora exclaimed. "People could've died. Goodness, _we_ could've died! We got harmed by fighting that foul creature and you care of how exciting this is?"

Anwen dropped the chunk of skin to the ground, gritting her teeth. "So Bone Mask Guy is a cultist and you just keep getting better and better, don'tcha?" she said bitterly, balling her hands into fists at her sides. "Do you have any idea where Bone Mask Guy is?"

Semaj shrugged. "I know who to talk to in order to get a meeting with him. But where he is? Elemental cultists don't exactly advertise where they set up shop. It's not exactly legal. Perhaps the sewers somewhere, or the lake district."

"Anwen, surely you're not going for revenge, are you?" Pelora asked, worried. "If the guy is truly a cultist and this is the symbol of the Fire Lord, it's not a good idea. We should stay away from such business."

"For now," Semaj amended hastily. "You should stay away from this _for now_. But Bone Mask Guy supports Imix, and Imix works for the Elder Elemental Eye, who's one of the causes of the evil in the world. You want to become powerful enough to oppose them. That's what Whirlwind is all about."

At that, Sora looked intrigued.

Anwen sighed. "Fine," she spat. "Fine, fine, fine. I won't do anything now but I know things will just get worse before it gets better."

"Well, that's how we grow," Semaj said solemnly. "And I think maybe we've done enough of that for today." He held up the tickets. "So, how about it?"

"Yeah, sure," Anwen said tiredly.

"You said there were good seats, right?" said Pelora. "Are you also watching the show?"

"If you'll have me."

~0~0~0~

The circus tent had been erected around the great amphitheatre at the center of Sheradon's park, and now Anwen and Pelora were making their way through the torchlit stands for seats in the front row. Sora and her parents had joined them, while Semaj kept his distance, leaving a few empty seats between them.

In a puff of purple smoke, Sweet appeared in the center of the arena, head held high and arms spread wide. He began to play his ukulele and sang:

 _"Ain't it nice to be in Sheradon?  
_ _Good to be here, be sad when we're gone.  
_ _Where every home has a well-kept grassy lawn;  
_ _It's good to be in Sheradon."_

"I just made that up, just now," he said with a smirk. "Welcome!" He held his ukulele behind his back and played a rapid riff on it.

The lights dimmed, and the show began.

~0~0~0~

 **DM's Note:** _The loss of Anwen's tooth arises from my house rule about critical hits, that they result in some sort of permanent injury, be it a scar or something getting severed. Loss off a tooth was the first thing I could think of in terms of a critical hit with a club. That's the second critical hit Anwen's taken so far, the first one being a bite from one of the fire beetles._

 _So now, we're taking a week off and we're tackling Chapter 4 next week. A well-deserved break, especially as, when we were so close to the end of the story arc in our most recent Saturday session, we played all day Sunday as well. They didn't encounter everything I put together for the city, which was of course part of the plan; here's hoping eventually they'll see everything the city of Sheradon has to offer._

 _I asked them each about their plans for Chapter 4, and of course I have my own big plans as well. Their ideas were once again humbly small; I wonder how I can get them to expand their intentions…? Kenzie's idea was that she wanted a walk in the forest—I can incorporate that, bringing in the big moment where Anwen steps outside the city for the first time and having that occur a little earlier than I had been expecting. Naty expressed a hope that Pelora's crush on Semaj not remain so one-sided—I had no intention of letting such a thing happen, I don't like drawing out one-sided feelings, I like couples. My personal intentions for Chapter 4? Three solo adventures: one for Anwen, one for Pelora… and one for Artin. We'll see how that goes._


	8. Helping Hands

**DM's Note:** _The hardest part of this? The friggin' epigraphs. I know I'll come to regret ever having introduced them, but I just couldn't resist. It's hard enough coming up with a meaningful title for every chapter and episode. But then to have to have a meaningful quote about the episode's theme, and an interesting new character to have said it, well… it's difficult. I have a few saved up for really important points, but for now… it's a challenge. Worth it so far. But yeah… I'm sure I'll come to regret the fact that I forced myself to come up with an epigraph for every individual episode._

~0~0~0~

 **WHIRLWIND**

 **Chapter 4: Three Quests  
** **Episode 8: Helping Hands**

" _Being a hero can mean a lot of things. A dog who sniffs you out when you're lost can be a hero. Do I think I'm a hero? Honestly… yeah."  
_ Dune Clecklocken, halfling adventurer, 273 years after the fall

~0~0~0~

Anwen stumbled woozily as she strapped on her weapon belt, wincing at the metallic clinking. "Focus, Anwen," she told herself, picking up her goggles and strapping them to her forehead.

She descended her ladder, smiling a bit as she jumped the last few steps. She stared off into the distance and sprinted out the massive hole in the front of the apartment building.

She raced past Sora, who it seemed was waiting for her just outside the building. "Hey!" she called, waving. "Where ya heading?"

Anwen backtracked, running back to Sora. "Oh, sorry!" she said. "Got a message from an old friend. Thought I'd go see what he needed. Did you have a good time at the circus?"

"Oh, it was the best," said Sora. "That dwarf woman with the giant hammer? Semaj pointed her out to me, told me he's trying to get her for the team. She was real impressive! All the lifting and smashing and—well, you were there."

"Yeah, I remember," said Anwen, biting her lip. "Yeah… total badass."

Sora nodded. "So, hey, what was that gold stuff you took back to your apartment just before?"

Anwen cringed. "Uh… it's a piece of history…"

"What, like Arkhosian lingerie?"

"Ah, uh… how did you—it's—I—we—I mean—"

"Oh, just a theory," Sora said breezily. "So, who's this friend of yours?"

"Oh, thank the gods," Anwen muttered. "Anyways, yeah, my friend. He's a wizard, Merlock. Old friend, saw him yesterday with Pelora."

"Neat!" said Sora.

~0~0~0~

Anwen had reached the outskirts of the slums when she realized Sora was following her.

She raised an eyebrow, turning around to face her. "What are you doing?"

"I just… thought maybe I could come along," Sora said innocently, casually flipping a gold coin over and over in her hand.

"No," Anwen stated flatly.

Sora scowled. "What do you mean no? When have you ever been the boss of me? I wanna walk around with you."

Anwen folded her arms and narrowed her eyes. "Simply put, I don't want to be responsible for you. This probably isn't dangerous, but if it is, I don't want you to put yourself in danger. I don't think you're stupid, I just think you're probably better back here."

Sora brazenly walked up to her side, continuing to toy with her coin. "Who asked you to be responsible for me? I'm just along for the ride."

Anwen sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Oh, I don't have time to argue this," she grumbled. "Fine, you can come with me as far as the Wizard's Tower. But, anything starts to go wrong, or if Merlock simply doesn't want you there: go home."

"Oh, what could possibly happen?" Sora said dismissively.

~0~0~0~

When they arrived at the tower some minutes later, Merlock was paging through a book, accompanied by a young man with very long blond hair, who looked meek and nervous.

"Ah, Anwen, nice to see you!" said Merlock. "You're earlier than I expected… I'm with a client. You… well, actually, you might want to take a look at this, this'll be interesting."

Anwen nodded, and approached to take a look at the book.

He smiled. "Not the book—her. This young lady… I'm sorry, miss, what did you say your name was?"

"Azalea," the young man said.

"Azalea, that's right," said Merlock, nodding. "Azalea here is what some call a woman trapped in a man's body. With some roundabout magical tinkering, I intend to free her from that trap."

"Hmm… interesting," said Anwen, inspecting Azalea. "Would it hurt?"

"Nope! That's the beauty of it," said Merlock, holding up an ornate belt. "This is a girdle of femininity and masculinity—a cursed joke item from a less-enlightened era that we can use to our advantage. It turns the wearer into the opposite sex—biologically, that is—and once a person puts it on, it's impossible to remove without a ritual of curse removal, which I have here." He held up a rolled-up, sparkling magical scroll, balancing it on his fingertip. "What I need are a few ingredients to modify the ritual, so that Azalea can remove the belt but keep the female form the belt grants her. Talking of those ingredients… can I ask a favor?"

"Oh, of course, anything," Anwen said without hesitation. "Just tell me where they are and I'll do it, Merlock."

"Perfect," Merlock said brightly, giving her a piece of paper. "I have a short list of ingredients. Not srue where to find them, but if you can run to the mercantile district and try a couple of places, I'd appreciate it. There's Ulric's, 'gear for adventurers and wanderers', and there's always magic herbs and such at Random's Tattoo Parlor. You know the places?"

"Yeah, I know 'em," said Anwen, taking Sora by the arm. "Okay, time to go."

"All right!" said Sora, pumping a fist. "We're goin' on a quest!"

"Yeah, yeah," said Anwen, ushering her out the door. "Just stay close and be quiet. This should be easy enough… Yeah."

~0~0~0~

"Where we heading first?" Sora asked.

Anwen led her through the streets of the mercantile district, entering Ulric's shop, finding him behind the counter.

"Anwen!" he said in delight. "Good to see you again. You…" His eyes darted to her headwear. "Rachael's goggles! Where did you get those?"

Anwen bit her lip before answering. "I, uh, got it from… uh, someone who knew her," she mumbled uncomfortably.

Ulric titled his head, curious, but let it go. "Well, all right then. What can I do for you?"

"Well, right now I'm doing a favor for a friend and I'm looking for some things," she said, pulling out the slip of paper. "You wouldn't happen to have a silver ring or really any of the stuff there, would you?"

Ulric took a look at the list. "Hrmm… well, Galumph's alchemical lab is shut down right now, he's fixing it. But the silver ring? I think I can do that." He dug around in a drawer behind the counter. "Aha! There you are." He presented her with a silver ring inset with a small blue stone. "For you? Oh, how about… twelve crowns seem fair."

Anwen pulled out her small money pouch and counted out twelve gold coins. "Yeah, here, thanks so much," she said, passing them to him and grabbing the ring. "I, uh, I'll see you around."

"Anwen, I er…" Ulric said. "Forgive me, I don't mean this inappropriately, but just let me say… I'd love to take you out for coffee sometime, or something. Talk about the old days, your parents. Catch up on where we've been. Would that be all right?"

Anwen raised an eyebrow, but nodded. "Yeah, sure."

Ulric smiled. "All right. We'll do that, then. HEY, GALUMPH!"

Galumph's head poked out of the back room. "What?" he said, staring blankly at Anwen.

"Anwen," Ulric said helpfully.

"Oh, right. Hey, kid." Galumph disappeared back into the room.

Ulric shrugged. "Anyway… best of luck. Thanks for thinking of us."

Anwen nodded slowly. "Yeah. Yeah…"

Sora followed her out the door. "So, now to… Random's? I've never been there. I hear it's a great new place."

"Yep," Anwen said flatly. "C'mon, kid, let's go."

~0~0~0~

The interior of Random's Tattoo Parlor was a wide-open space, its walls lined with expertly-crafted paintings and drawings. Inside was a petite tiefling woman with short black hair, a red-haired human woman, and a gray parrot sitting on a stand.

The tiefling immediately approached Anwen. "Hello!" she said in a high, clear voice. "You can call me Random. What can I do for you?" She leaned in, uncomfortably close, and tugged at locks of Anwen's hair. "Here to get your hair done? You hardly seem to need it, but I'll do the best I can…"

"Uh, no thanks," said Anwen, pulling away. "I'm just here to look for some things." She held up Merlock's list, while her other hand protectively held onto her hair. "Do you have these things, or do you know where I can get them… um, Random?"

Random glanced at the last two items on the list. "Lavender oil, we have," she said. "Carafina! Lavender oil for our guests."

"Yes, Random," said the red-haired woman, heading to a rack of oils and lotions.

"Lavender oil," the parrot squawked. "Lavender oil."

"What is it you need all these things for?" Random asked, looking over the list. "Planning some sort of ritual?" She grinned broadly, baring her fangs.

Anwen took a step back. "Uh… yes," she said. "What about the antidote? Do you have that?"

Random immediately began pacing back and forth, her shoes skimming the floor. "Antidote… no, I don't often carry potions. That might give you some trouble… ooh, I know of a potion-seller at the Black Market—and when I say the Black Market, I refer to that actual market in the lake district where everything's all black—you know what I'm talking about?"

"Oh!" said Anwen, going pale. "Oh… oy. Of friggin' course. Look, how much for the lavender?"

Carafina returned with a tiny purple bottle. "Two gold pieces," she said.

Random looked at Anwen curiously. "Hmm… you know, if the Black Market doesn't appeal to you, I think there's someone in the south gate district who could get you that antidote…"

"Oh, thank the gods!" said Anwen, flinging two coins at Carafina and taking the tiny bottle. "Thank you, thank you, thank you." She rushed out the door.

"I didn't give you the guy's name!" Random called after her.

~0~0~0~

Anwen came to a stop as she entered the south gate district. Sora caught up to her soon after, reading a small square of parchment.

"Hey," she said. "You, uh, you want the information? 'Cause I got it."

Anwen didn't answer.

"The guy's name is Yetcos," said Sora. "He sells poisons and antidotes. Random says he's a tiefling with bright orange skin and a lot of tattoos, usually wears fur."

Anwen nodded and winced, making her way further south, heading straight for the being that fit that description—the venom-dealing vizier devil.

"Damn," Anwen muttered, clenching her teeth. She made a fist and stormed up to him, raising her arm and going in for a punch.

He spotted her an instant before the swing started coming, and caught her fist in the palm of his hand. "Why, hello again!" he said brightly.

Anwen's eyes narrowed, before taking a breath and pulling her hand away. "Okay, look, I'm going to make this short and simple," she said. "I need an antidote, do you have it?"

Almost instantly, a squat green bottle was in his hand. "Antidote? Why, what are you planning?"

"That's none of your concern," said Anwen, glaring at him and producing her money bag. "How much is it?"

His glittering red eyes scanned her bag, counting the few remaining coins within. "Hmm… is that… six crowns? For you, my dear, that'll be six crowns. Heh heh heh…" He tossed the bottle once and caught it.

Anwen raised an eyebrow at him. "And this is the antidote I need?"

"'Tis all-purpose, cleanses the body of most afflictions," said Yetcos. "It will serve your purpose, whatever that might be. So, tell me, before your friend gave you that adorable little concussion and you rode off, I wasn't clear on what your plan was for Alduin Fivetails."

Anwen slid the bag over to him across his stand, shuddering lightly. "I'll take the antidote, please," she said in a tone of forced civility.

He waited, then scooped up the bag and set it in his shop till, but didn't give up the antidote. "Not especially civil, are you?" he observed. "Sate my curiosity, I beg you."

Anwen glared, flexing her fingers. "Give. Me. The antidote."

Yetcos's lip twitched in irritation. "All in good time, miss. First, I like some basic manners from my customers. Tell me what your plans are for Fivetails, and how I might assist you."

Anwen scratched her chin. "Oh, I've got a plan all right, but it's a little too complex for you to handle," she said vaguely. "It actually involves that antidote along with disguises like that of yours."

Yetcos raised an eyebrow, clearly seeing through her bluff. "I'm not in disguise, first of all," he said. "Vizier devils are made to look almost exactly like tieflings. For another thing…"

"Wait, devil?" Sora blurted.

His gaze immediately fell upon Sora. "Young lady," he said in a syrupy sweet voice, "what are your companion's plans for this antidote?"

Sora blushed. "Well, there's this lady, and a belt of gender-changing, and a ritual that needs… modifying? I mean, all the wizard stuff was over my head…"

"No, no, I get the picture," he said seriously, turning back to Anwen. "So… no connection then to our earlier discussion. Come now, my dear. I know you want Alduin Fivetails dead. Trafficker of his fellow man and endangered species, hmmmm? Primed for your righteous revenge? Come now, mighty ranger, help me help you."

Anwen brought a palm to her face. "I am not a one-woman army," she said simply. "I wish I could solve everyone's problem by the simple beating of a monster. But I can't. I hope to soon, with the help of others. Now please, give me the antidote." She held out her hand for it.

"All you had to say," he said, finally bringing the bottle within her arm's reach. "I stand by what I said before. Take out Fivetails before he leaves town and I will give you the power and resources you need to… how did you put it? 'Solve everyone's problem'? Yes, that."

Anwen rolled her eyes and grabbed the antidote. "And I stand by when I say that I know of your intentions. I'm not buying it."

"Hrrrmmm, another hero who thinks she's savvy to the ways of devils, are we?" he said grimly. "Such is life. One more thing…" He bent down, and produced the massive fur coat that Fivetails had abandoned. "I insist, one professional to another, that you take Fivetails' coat. A gift from me to you."

"Awfully generous," Anwen said skeptically. "What's the catch?"

"No catch, on my honor as a baatezu. I just think you should have it."

Anwen took the coat and handed it over to Sora. "Why don't you hold onto this for a bit, kiddo," she said, ruffling Sora's hair.

Sora's eyes went wide as she examined the coat, stroking it gently. "Ooooh… bitchin' coat…"

Yetcos leaned forward. "We may be parting ways now, but I know your heart, Anwen Ma'Sijor. Soon you will cease to be content with the power you hold, and the burning need to save us all will overcome you. When that day comes, remember the name Yetcos. …That's _my_ name, if we haven't established that. I will give you the strength you need. It is… my only purpose on this world."

Anwen stared. "You must be really pathetic then." She walked away, Sora in tow.

"Mortals in general!" he called after her. "Not just you. You're not nearly that special."

Sora glanced back as they proceeded to the north. "Is he really a devil?" she said quietly. "Or is he just leaning into suuuuper racist tiefling stereotypes?"

"He's a devil," Anwen stated plainly. "Nearly got roped into doing something stupid and dangerous. Pelora got me out of it." She smirked. "So cute…" She straightened up and slowed in her stride. "This feels almost too easy…"

"What's too easy?" Sora chirped. "It wasn't some kind of quest, you're just gathering ingredients. I don't know what you've been up to, but you don't usually have to negotiate with devils to do that."

"I don't know," Anwen admitted. "It's just kind of weird. I mean, I thought traveling around the city with Pelora would be an easy, fun little trip… it was still fun I gotta admit, but… I don't know. I feel like that was too easy."

Sora gazed up at her sympathetically. "If that was too easy, I don't envy you your everyday life." She took Anwen's hand.

~0~0~0~

"Ah, you got everything!" said Merlock. "Wonderful. Wasn't too much trouble, I hope?"

"Nope," said Anwen, handing the ring and the two little bottles over to him before turning to Azalea. "So, you absolutely sure you want to do this? I mean, I don't know if it's permanent or if you can go back or not, just… Are you ready?"

Azalea nodded. "On the off-chance this is a mistake, it can be reversed. But I don't think so. My life has always been… wrong. I don't think I was supposed to be a man. I'm ready for this."

Merlock offered up the belt. "Here's the belt. I suppose we could have done this earlier. Why don't you go ahead and put it on and see how it feels?"

Azalea took the belt and put it around her waist, closing her eyes as she instantaneously transformed, retaining her height and build, but her body now unmistakably female. She touched her face, then her chest, then opened tearful eyes and looked at Merlock. "By the gods. I'm a woman. I'm a real woman."

"Aw, you've been a real woman all your life, sweetheart," Merlock said jovially. "The belt just... you know."

Azalea hugged Merlock tightly.

"Aw, hey, there's no need for that," Merlock chuckled. "I haven't done a thing. Not yet. Now we just need to remove the belt."

"Okay," said Azalea. "Let's do it. What do I need to do?"

"You just need to sit there for the half an hour it'll take me to read this ritual scroll," said Merlock. "Now… I want to make sure you understand everything going into this—"

"I do," Azalea said quickly. "We've been over it."

"Yes," Merlock said slowly, "but I want to make absolutely sure."

"Fine."

"First of all," said Merlock, "we can bypass the ritual if you're willing to just… keep the belt on."

"No," Azalea said firmly. "I'm not wearing a belt for the rest of my life. That's stupid."

"Okay," said Merlock. "Then you need to understand that what you've paid for are the ritual components I'll use—if you keep the belt, you pay nothing, but if you insist on undergoing the ritual… it'll cost you. Not only the money, but also your health. The ritual will draw upon your life energy, physically draining you. I make it a fifteen percent chance that you will die instantly."

Azalea faltered. "Fifteen percent… that's… I have to risk it. I've gotta be me."

Merlock bowed to her. "All right then."

"She might die?!" Anwen said, shocked. "I thought you said she wouldn't get hurt!"

Merlock winced. "Yes, I did say that. I misspoke. Rituals of removing curses and diseases carry a certain risk; they are physically taxing upon the recipient. It's on me. It depends on how well I administer the healing salve. If I do it right, she'll just be left a little weakened, but as with any medical procedure, there's a small chance she may be lost."

"Yeah, but—I don't—isn't there any—" Anwen stammered. "I hope this risk pays off."

"I suppose one way to reduce the risk would be if someone with more skill at healing than myself cast the ritual," said Merlock, offering her the scroll. "Be my guest, if you think you can handle it. It's a scroll, anyone can cast a ritual from a scroll. How are you at medicine?"

"Um… uh… I'm okay," Anwen said nervously.

"If you have any experience with healing, that's more than I've got," said Merlock, shrugging. "I'm willing to hand the reins over to you if you think you can manage it. Or I can do it. Either way, Azalea's willing to face the danger."

"I don't want to be responsible for risking someone else's life," Anwen said in concern. "But I do want to protect. Let's do this, Merlock." She took the scroll.

Sora patted Anwen on the back. "You've got this."

Over the course of the next half an hour, Anwen read from the ritual scroll, rubbed healing salves on Azalea's skin, and focused magic through the silver ring. When the ritual was over, Anwen gently touched the belt's clasp, and the ritual scroll disintegrated.

The belt unclasped and fell to the ground. With a rushing sound, Azalea went pale and shriveled, and collapsed in a heap.

Anwen's eyes widened. "No, no, no!" she cried out, bending down over her. "Gotta do something! Something…" She slammed her palm into Azalea's diaphragm, and the unconscious woman heaved and began breathing again.

Anwen quivered, her eyes filled with tears, as she looked up at Merlock. "S-she's fine," she said. "I'm sorry. I should've just—a-and I shouldn't have—"

Merlock put a firm hand on her shoulder. "No… no, it's good you did this. If it had been me alone, I wouldn't have been able to revive her. Thanks to you, she gets to live this new life. It's a very, very good thing you were here."

Anwen shook her head. "You were supposed to help her… she asked you."

"She knew the risks," said Merlock. "I promised her I would do the very best I could, and she knew my limitations. But she faced them anyway. And it's because of you that she's going to wake up."

"Quit beating yourself up," said Sora, poking Anwen with a finger. "You're a total hero."

"Just stop!" Anwen shrieked. "I don't want to hear any hero bull until she wakes up, or really ever!"

"Anwen, calm down," Merlock said urgently. "She's going to wake up. She's going to be fine. Just… give her a few minutes. She was going to die, but thanks to you, she didn't. If I had done it myself and she had fallen, I wouldn't have known how to stabilize her the way you did. I swear to you, you are the reason she is alive. There's no two ways about that."

Anwen wiped her tears away and stayed silent, staring at Azalea's unconscious, raggedly breathing body.

"Sit down," said Merlock, pulling out a chair. "We'll watch over her together. While we wait… there's a real reason I invited you over here. There's something we need to talk about."

They sat down together. "What is it?" Anwen asked.

"Well… it seems to be that you've started adventuring actively, so there's something you need to know about what lies ahead," said Merlock. "You see, I'm not a real wizard. I'm actually a warlock."

"What?" Anwen demanded, her head snapping toward him. "But what about all these books and spells and all?"

He chuckled bitterly. "I study hard. I learn a lot of lore and rituals. Enough to pass for a real wizard, but… I was just never smart enough to really become one, no matter how hard I tried. One day a creature from the Nine Hells, some powerful baatezu called Nexas, came to me, and offered me the arcane knowledge I so desperately craved. The power that eluded my intellect was mine; I could command energy with my heart and personality instead."

"So you took the easy way out?" Anwen said disdainfully. "What about all your talk about how being wizards takes years of dedication or what-have-you?"

He shook his head. "No one laments it more than I that I'm among those who took the easy way. Judge me if you must, just know that you cannot, not more than I judge myself. But you must listen—the reason I'm telling you this. The reason you must know. I once taught you some of my magic. I taught you to snap your fingers and make an enemy burst into flames. You thought I was teaching you a wizard spell, but in actuality I was transferring some of my infernal powers to you.

"A reality every warlock must face is that someday, if they grow powerful enough, their patron will come and ask for something in exchange for all the power and knowledge. And if you make enough of a name for yourself out there in the world… when Nexas comes for me, asking something of me, she's likely to ask something of you too. I just… thought you ought to know."

Anwen nodded. "Thank you," she said quietly. "What will you do when she comes for you?"

He sighed in relief. "Well, you certainly took that better than I thought you would. I… I guess I'll pay the price. Hopefully all the good I've done for my community over the years as a fake wizard will make up for whatever diabolical bargain I had to strike to get the power. I told you yesterday that warlocks don't have to be evil. Truth is… I hope very much that I'm right."

"I'm only taking this as well as I am because someone nearly died and…" Anwen sighed before continuing. "I just don't want to deal with this. Not now. I know I need to, but… look, I hope you don't become evil."

"I won't. No matter what she makes me do. In my heart, I'll… well… we'll just see. Yes, I appreciate that it's a lot to have to deal with. I only taught you in the first place because I thought you'd only use it to protect your little borough… but if you're out there protecting more people, you had to know. Deal with it when you will. Just know it's a fate everyone with an arcane pact has to face. And that includes you."

Azalea started to stir awake. Anwen nearly jumped out of her seat, grasping her hands together.

Merlock knelt over Azalea. "You all right?"

Azalea looked down at her body and inspected herself. "No belt… still a woman… alive… I'm alive, right?"

"Oh, yeah, totally."

Azalea gave him a thumbs-up. "I don't feel so hot… but…"

"That'll pass," Merlock assured her.

"Then thank you," she said. "Thank you so much."

Anwen smiled. "Congratulations," she said, staring at the floor.

Merlock turned to Anwen and slid a large sack to her. "Here," he said. "Fifty crowns for your trouble, just a bit of the fee Azalea paid. You deserve to turn a profit for the good work you've done here."

Anwen nodded tiredly. "Thank you," she said, taking the sack and placing a hand on his shoulder. "Be careful."

With that, Anwen and Sora left the tower. Sora bit her lip, eyeing Anwen carefully. "So… how you feeling? You… don't seem all that happy with all you got done."

"Unsure," Anwen said honestly. "It's just a lot has happened just now and… kind of a lot to take in. Hell, I wasn't coming expecting _this_." She held up the sack of coins. "Azalea nearly died, my friend's magic is a lie, and what little I know is making me a possible target. Just, like, a lot to process."

Sora pondered. "And… how are you gonna deal with it?"

Anwen shrugged. "I guess I'll just take it on. I don't care what happens to me, as long as I can do something about it."

~0~0~0~

Verthandi emerged from the back rooms of the temple of Pelor. "Oblio, Pelora, have either of you seen Jepser this morning?" she asked.

"No," said Oblio, bewildered.

"I haven't seen him since yesterday morning," said Pelora. "Is something of concern?"

"He was here yesterday morning?" said Verthandi. "That's good… I haven't seen him since the evening before that. Just a bit strange, is all. I guess he has business." She clapped her hands. "No time to dwell on it; let's just stick to our usual errands. I've got some ritual components to purchase. You two take care of the temple."

"Will do," said Pelora. She picked up a broom, and began to sweep fallen blossoms off of the temple's front deck.

Verthandi passed by her, walking off to the south. Spotting something, she turned back to Pelora. "Pelora, I think this one's for you," she called.

In a moment, she was gone, but quite soon Semaj appeared from the west, making his way to the temple. Pelora stopped sweeping as he approached.

"Hey there," he said, lacking much of his usual swagger. "How, uh… how we doing? I mean, since I saw you last night, I guess."

"Much better than last night, at least," Pelora said good-naturedly. "A good night's sleep tend to do that."

"Well, good. Good. I just wanted to check on you. Just… felt like the right thing to do."

"You surprise me, Semaj," said Pelora. "When I heard you were heading to the temple, I thought you had a new mission or favor to convince me to do. This is, however, a personality I haven't seen from you until now." She smiled.

Semaj nodded, scratching his arm nervously. "No. I'm… I've seen the way I've hurt and offended you and Anwen. Haven't been the kindly benefactor I was trying to be. I want to make it right."

"You know," said Pelora, "people who wants to be good, sometimes they make mistakes or do something we misunderstand. I had barely talked to anyone besides the clerics and now recently, Anwen."

"Mm-hmm. I'm glad you see it that way. I'm not sure Anwen will ever see me as anything other than a shady character."

"You probably would like to make it up for her," Pelora suggested. "That's what people do when they do mistakes and want to correct them."

Semaj smiled. "I'm trying. Taking it one day at a time."

"You know…" Pelora said slowly, "I had you pegged as someone who knew everything that happened and pulled on strings to make me go on an adventure to save the world. But then that mutated scorpion appeared yesterday and when I found out you had no hand in it… I might come to wrong conclusions too fast. I owe you an apology as well."

He chuckled. "Oh, that's all right. That would be nice. To know everything, to make things happen. But, no plan survives contact with other people. Neither of you embraced the notion of adventure the way I expected. But you got there in your own way. I think that's beautiful."

Pelora blushed. "Yes… I came to realize that if me and Anwen were the only ones who cared about protecting the people from those attacking monsters, then there must be many others in the world who are less fortunate. It's the right thing to do."

He nodded, and they let the silence hang in the air for a moment, until Pelora realized someone else was approaching: Cleffy, the little girl who had been hanging around near Tost's fruit stand.

"Hello," said Pelora.

Cleffy held up the abacus she was cradling, tapping a small red bead. Then she beckoned her with a single finger.

Pelora turned to Semaj. "I must go. I have promised a favor to someone who helped me out yesterday. But well… I suppose I'll see you again soon enough." She set her broom against the temple's outer wall, and she picked up a small blossom and placed it in the front pocket of Semaj's blazer. "Here, for good luck," she said with a smile.

Semaj gently touched the flower, then looked at Cleffy in confusion. "I don't get it. What's this all about?"

"Yesterday, I had the bad luck to run into a medusa," said Pelora, "and she didn't like me for some reason, so she turned my pony Poppy into stone. The food stand owner took pity on me and had a potion to revive Poppy. Since I didn't had the money to pay for it, I offered a favor instead, and now, it seems like he's calling me for the favor."

"Mm-hmm," Cleffy agreed.

"A medusa?" Semaj said in alarm. "You mean Nyima? Wow. She's the queen of thieves in this city. If you crossed her, you're lucky you came out alive."

"Mm-hmm," Cleffy said cheerfully.

"Where was this?" Semaj said seriously. "The Black Market in the lake district?"

"Yes, I think so," said Pelora in mild surprise. "Me and Anwen just wanted to take a shortcut to save us time when she gave me a tour of the city. But I suppose it could've cost me Poppy. If you're worried, you could always come with me. If you're not too busy, I mean."

"I'm glad you said that," said Semaj. "I was about to suggest it myself—owing a favor to someone in the lake district is a dangerous proposition. You might need someone on hand who knows his way around these streets—coming with you, I think, would be for the best."

"Okay, then," said Pelora.

~0~0~0~

Cleffy led them to the docks beside a beautiful lake. Out in the lake was a tiny island with a sea-green, shell-shaped temple perched atop it. There were apartment buildings at the dockside, and merchants gathered all around. "FISH!" one of them bellowed. "FRESH FISH! FAT FISH!"

Tost was there accompanied by two shabby, weathered young women, the three of them standing in front of something large and square covered by a discolored sheet.

"Good day," Pelora greeted nervously. "Is something the matter?"

Tost grinned and spread his hands graciously. "Miss Pelora. Thank you for coming quickly. As luck would have it, a situation has come up that would be… just perfect for cashing in the favor you owe me."

"Yes, I assumed correctly, then, and I'm at your service," said Pelora, smiling and nodding. "But may I ask what the favor is?"

"We've got a couple of pests that need to be taken care of," he said dramatically, pulling away the sheet, revealing a huge cage containing two filthy rats the size of large dogs.

"Goodness!" Pelora exclaimed, jumping back. "Now I understand why you needed my help for this favor."

Semaj swiftly stepped forward. "Hi," he said smoothly. "Semaj Oklahim, I'm Miss Pelora's agent. Let me be clear: you are dealing with a legitimate cleric of Pelor. She is no assassin. What are you trying to pull here?"

Tost glanced at the rats. "I had no intention of concealing anything from her, Mister Oklahim. If they don't want to admit that they're Filth Fever guys, I can't control them." He slammed a metal cup against the bars of the cage. "Change back, boys, you're not fooling anyone."

After a few moments, the rats transformed, standing on their hind legs and sprouting filthy shirts and pants. Though their bodies were now mostly human, their faces were still very much those of rats. Semaj instantly produced a cigar and lit it, examining them carefully.

"I-I don't understand what this is about… or who they are," said Pelora. "Sir, exactly what is the favor?"

Tost bowed his head. "Apologies. I didn't mean to… meander. These men are members of the Filth Fever gang, one of the two thief guilds who rule here in the lake district. Last night, I came upon them pursuing these two ladies of the evening, with intent to cause them harm." He bowed graciously to the two women. "I managed to wrangle them into this cage… but I wield no weapon with which to properly punish them. See, we may all be crooks and rogues here in the lake district, but it's a common gentleman's agreement: no one harms the ladies of the evening. An example must be made of them. Punish these men for me, and I'll consider my favor taken care of."

"How am I supposed to punish them, then?" Pelora asked. "I mean, people do punish differently, depending on the crime."

Semaj scowled. "In a land of thieves and scoundrels, the proper punishment for breaking the 'gentleman's agreements' that serve as a substitute for law? They are killed and mutilated, and set out in public as an example for others. Have I got that right?"

Tost tapped his nose. "I daresay you've nailed it, Mister Oklahim."

Pelora went pale. "What will happen if I do this…"

"You don't have to do this, Pelora," said Semaj. "This isn't your concern."

The two women stepped forward, and one of them, the older of the two with pale red hair, spoke. "Are you trying to back out on the favor you owe Mister Tost?" she said in a nasal voice. "That's… frowned upon… in these parts."

"I'm going to be honest with all of you," said Pelora. "I wouldn't intend to back away from a favor, as I was raised to honor my word and I gave my word to do a favor to Mister Tost as he helped me. But you see, the problem is I'm a cleric of Pelor and I took a vow to never kill. However… I'm considering how this is different from the monsters I killed when they threatened the lives of the slum people. I need to make the right decision for this kind of situation."

"Oh, that's an easy one," Semaj said hastily. "These aren't mindless bugs, these are men."

"Men," Tost agreed. "Violent men, criminal men, who intended harm against these two lovely hard-working women and will surely do so again."

Semaj looked to the women disdainfully, puffing on his cigar. "Women who are also criminals, if I had to wager."

"You think you're better than us, mister rich man?" the red-haired woman spat at him. "How many whipped workers paid for that fancy red suit of yours?"

Cleffy watched Pelora with an eerily knowing expression.

"Wait a moment," Pelora said, stepping in front of Semaj. "I'm still thinking about this, I haven't declined anything yet. Also, it's no use to point fingers at each other. I'm convinced that you do need to work, to survive in this world." She crossed her arms and thought deeply. "However… I believe death is too easy for them. Killing them won't punish them at all, it's rather mercy. I believe there's other fates that's worse than death."

She gazed at the wererats in the cage. "They don't deserve to die. If they do such a horrible crime to you, ladies, then they should live, but their punishment should be something gruesome. Enough to make them wish they would die, but they will not."

"You can turn them in to the authorities," Semaj suggested. "Roughing up hookers is still illegal, last I checked. Bring 'em to jail."

Tost stared at him disdainfully. "Are you really so naïve? You think the city authorities care enough about these ladies to put away these rats?"

Semaj puffed on his cigar, then sighed. "No. No, I suppose I'm not." He took another drag, then turned to Pelora. "What you're suggesting… sounds a lot like torture, Pelora, and that seems rather dark for you. I'm not condoning that you kill them, but… it's worth mentioning that death isn't a mercy for everyone. We don't all join Pelor in the Bright City when we die. The death of a couple of Filth Fever gangsters will surely send them to the torment of the Nine Hells, or the darkness of Tytherion."

"They need to suffer, my dear," Tost added. "Perhaps not die, but you must help us do something. To keep what law and order this district has."

"Gentlemen and ladies, I'm still thinking what they should be punished as," said Pelora, holding up her hands. "I cannot perform dark magic, thus cursing them. How about… they could taste their own medicine? The worst fate is to feel the same amount of terror and pain they inflicted on others, only ten times worse. Oh, and they could never speak about it to anyone. It will drive them to madness, of course."

"Ugh!" the red-haired woman exclaimed in annoyance. "Quit being so righteous and just kill them!"

"You miss the point, Miss Pelora," Tost added. "We need to make an example of them, a warning to the other gang members that their behavior will not be tolerated. A private, secret punishment won't do at all."

"You don't exactly understand," said Pelora, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration. "I can't kill with my own hands, I took a vow. It's something I can't exactly break."

"A fucking pacifist," the woman sneered. "Real good choice of champion, Tost."

"Listen, lady," said Semaj, pointing his cigar at her. "Pelora here is a genuine hero. If she can do it without killing people, that's her business, and more power to her."

"Clerics are supposed to help people," she spat. "Where's our JUSTICE?!"

"Clerics are supposed to help people, correct, but we can't kill," said Pelora, turning to Tost. "Surely there is another way to do this, sir?"

Tost rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I honestly like your idea," he said. "Make them hurt. Make them wish they were dead. That's good stuff. If you really think that's better than killing them… I say we do that."

"They're not going to die, because they must tell what happens if they keep doing such crimes," said Pelora, hefting her staff. "Dying is too easy, it's more mercy than they deserve. No, they're going to live with marks that never goes away. Never."

"Just for the record, this is… still way too dark for you," Semaj muttered.

"I like it!" the other woman said brightly. She was younger, and had long, flowing black hair. "Scar 'em for life. Do it."

"Mm-hmm," said Cleffy.

Pelora waved them all closer to herself. "This is the plan: I need them to be held down while I use my cleric magic to scar them. They should only hit their target."

Tost cracked his knuckles. "I can hold them. They're no stronger than ordinary rats. Let's do this."

Tost slipped a key into the cage and dragged out one of the two wererats, tossing him to the ground. He leaned his entire weight on the wererat's skinny body. "Where shall we scar him, milady?" he said savagely.

"The face, perhaps," said Pelora. "Visible to everyone."

"Go for it, then," Tost urged.

"Guide me, Pelor, to serve the true justice," Pelora muttered, turning her staff in her fingers. Waving her hand, a blinding beam of light slashed at the wererat's face, making him shriek and howl in pain. A jagged red burn spread down the side of his face, cooking one of his eyes. He struggled against Tost and gnashed his teeth.

The black-haired woman bent down and poked him in his bare, burned flesh, making him hiss.

"You get what you paid for," she taunted. "Pay the next girl what she's owed, friend."

The other woman stepped back. "I don't like this. I'd so much rather kill them…"

"Killing them is more mercy than they deserve, milady," said Pelora. "In death, we never know whether they get punished or if they get away with their crimes."

"Haven't we been over this? That's not true!" she hissed. "They'll go to the Nine Hells where they belong! And if we let them go, they'll come back and kill us later."

"It'll be okay, Gliss," Tost said soothingly. "I'm not letting them go. They stay in the cage."

"What, are you gonna feed 'em?" Gliss challenged.

"No, I think not," said Tost, standing up and lifting the scarred wererat by the scruff of his neck. "I think our 'examples' will remain in their cage."

"So instead of leaving them as a warning to the guild, you're going to leave them where any guild member can come break them out at any moment? Then they'll kill us for doing this to them." Gliss whirled on Pelora. "What kind of cleric are you, that you think scum like this might get an eternal reward?"

"What? No," Pelora said in confusion. "Didn't you hear me before? I can't kill. Even if I tried, I can't."

"You can kill," Gliss sneered. "You can laser-burn him to death or just hit him with your staff. You just _won't_ kill. And I'm getting far away from here before he comes after me and kills me. Thanks for your _no help at all_." She walked away, toward the slums, as fast as she could.

Pelora sighed, her shoulders sinking. "I was just trying to do some good…"

Tost thought about it, then turned to the wererat. "Will you be doing anything like this again?"

"N-no," he coughed.

"Feeling vengeful? Or do you know that any further transgressions will lead you to more getting your face sizzled off?"

"The second thing."

Tost looked to Pelora. "That's good enough for me if it's good enough for you. Gliss isn't necessarily right."

"I suppose," Pelora murmured. "I just don't think killing is the answer to everything." She turned to Semaj for help.

He raised his eyebrows at her attention. "Killing is the answer to… _some_ things," he said. "Any adventurer knows that. Sparing a life is a virtue. I won't speak for whether now is the time."

Tost wrangled the wererat back into the cage; already, its wound had scarred over, regenerated unnaturally fast. "Having any second thoughts?" Tost asked. "Should we bring out the other one?"

"I suppose it should be fair," said Pelora, nodding.

Tost grabbed the other wererat, but it wriggled out of his grasp and ran off into the depths of the lake district, toward the market where they had encountered Nyima.

"This wasn't good," said Pelora, gripping her staff uneasily. "Maybe I should've killed them anyways."

Tost slipped out of the cage, sealing the scarred wererat inside. "What do you think, Runez?"

The black-haired woman stared after the fleeing wererat, very nervous. "I don't… I don't know what to do now," she muttered. "Nothing like this has ever happened to me before. Sure, I've had plenty of drunk guys getting angry because they have to pay me for a good time, but none that have ever tried to kill me for it. And the girl you said would be our salvation won't kill them in return. Now they're angry and vengeful and they're going to come for me… what's going to happen to me now?"

Pelora turned to Semaj. "If I give her sanctuary in the temple, you don't think those men will try to break in?"

He smiled. "I think that's a swell idea. I can't imagine they'll leave the district searching for her."

Pelora turned back to the woman, offering up a hand. "Come with me, to the temple of Pelor. I can give you sanctuary, the people of the temple will protect and care for you as long as you remain there."

"O-okay," she said awkwardly, taking Pelora's hand and eyeing the remaining wererat. "What about my livelihood? …I suppose I can do my job from there."

"We find a way," Pelora assured her. "There's always a way, somehow."

Semaj turned to Tost. "Is your favor paid off?"

Tost considered that. "Well… I'd be lying if I said I wasn't disappointed that the rats got to live through this. But if you're taking in Runez and sheltering her, that's definitely above and beyond the call of duty. I think… if you promise me that you'll try to find Gliss and give her the same protection, I think it's safe to say my favor is cashed in."

"I promise I will try to find this Gliss, I'd hate for her to fall into peril," said Pelora. "We should probably head towards the temple already now, I don't know how fast word travels here."

"Yeah, let's get going," said Runez, glancing around. "Where are we going?"

"We're heading towards the north gate district, that's where the temple is," said Pelora, guiding her to the north. "I'm awfully sorry for this misfortune, by the way."

"Ah, that's all right," she said, shivering. "These things just seem to happen around here."

"Yo, cleric!" the wererat in the cage called after her.

Pelora ignored him. "Semaj," she said. "You don't think it was entirely my fault that this happened?"

"I'm talkin' to you!" the wererat snarled. "Hear this: I don't hold anything against the girls or Tost for doin' their jobs. I might even admit I made a mistake. But for this? I'm comin' for you. Temple in the north gate district, right? I won't forget."

Semaj turned to her grimly. "I… think it might be a little bit your fault, yeah."

Pelora turned around, giving the rat a heated glare. "You might think you're the victim here. You might think you did nothing wrong. But _you are wrong_. You're the one who has sinned. Another cleric wouldn't been so kind." She turned her back and kept walking. "Let's leave."

~0~0~0~

Back in the north gate district, the three of them came upon Micah and a young man with a mohawk wrangling a creature that looked like a giant featherless bird with a nasty hooked beak and long clawed arms.

"Pelor almighty, what is that?!" Pelora exclaimed.

Micah heard her cry and turned to face her. "Hey there!" he called. "This here's a crodlu. This young man had it imported all the way from Hesq! I'll be helping him care for it and train it."

Pelora turned to Semaj. "Where is Hesq, Semaj? I have never heard of it before."

"Hesq is a city in Bael Turath," he said easily. "It's probably the most isolated city in the world, as it's surrounded by nothing but desert for over two hundred miles in every direction, and it's ruled by four very secretive evil sorcerers called the Four Kings. At least, they _were_ the Four Kings last time anybody checked. See, they used to be the Thirteen Kings, but they keep, like… killing each other off. The desert habitat around Hesq has a lot of exotic wildlife, such as the crodlu here. I've never seen one."

"You know a lot of things," Pelora remarked. "I have never seen or heard of the crodlu either."

"It's in my nature to seek out secrets," said Semaj. "And anything about Hesq is definitely a closely-guarded secret. It's that inclination to know secrets that made me want to learn about _you_ , as a matter of fact."

Pelora frowned. "What have I to do with secrets? I'm not really a secret. Just because I'm named after the god of sun, everyone assume I must be someone special. But it's just silly rumors."

"Your parents kept you in the back rooms and didn't let anybody talk about you," he reminded her. "The entire subject of you has always been quite a secret."

"Well…" Pelora shrugged. "They seem to believe I'm special, like everyone else. But I'm just like any other cleric. I don't understand their motives."

"Well, they're not here now," he said, winking at her. "You can put that behind you. Look at you, walking around all over the city, it's great."

As Micah led the crodlu into the stable, the beast's owner walked up to them. "Hi, I'm Gary," he said, extending a hand. "Micah tells me you're the one who owns those magnificent Valenar horses."

"Actually, they belong to my parents," said Pelora, shaking his hand. "They're, for the moment, out of town, and I'm responsible for them."

"Well, they're beautiful," he said. "And I'll be at the stables with Micah taking care of my crodlu for a while, so I guess we'll be seeing a lot of each other, at least until your parents get back. I'm sure we'll get quite acquainted with each other."

"All right, Gary, give the lady some space," Semaj said pleasantly. "Pelora, why don't we get Runez set up in a room at the temple? Your parents' room is free now, right?"

"Yes, it is for the moment," said Pelora, leading Runez to the temple. "Here is the temple of Pelor, my recent home."

Runez whistled. "Nice place."

She entered the temple, but Semaj held back Pelora from entering. "I'm just making sure," he said, "because, well, you haven't given any indication… maybe you're just really non-judgmental, I don't know, but you do realize she's a prostitute, right? Do you expect her to ply her craft from the chapel?"

"I do know," she confirmed. "I just don't mind what her craft is. I will explain the conditions we live under here." She followed Runez into the temple. "I need to explain a few things, Runez. Semaj reminded me of your craft, which I have nothing against. However, I need you to know that you'll be respectful around here. This is, after all, a holy place."

"Can't say I'll resent taking a break," she admitted. "I'll find a way to earn my keep, then. Pay the rent. I'll keep the place… well…" She looked around. "Well, it's already spotless. But I'll make sure it stays that way."

Oblio looked around in confusion. "What's this about?" he asked.

"Oh, Oblio!" said Pelora, turning to him. "This woman needs sanctuary since her life is threatened. It's a favor I owe her and you know I always honor my word."

Oblio stared at her blankly. "You realize this is only the third day since your parents left? How do all these strange situations keep finding you?"

"I do not know, but what I do know is I don't turn my back at someone who needs my help and I always keep my word. I hope this will be resolved by the time they return."

The temple doors opened, and Sora poked her head in. She glanced around and spotted Semaj, walking up to him. She was clad in the oversized white coat Anwen had given her. "Hey," she said.

"Hey, kiddo," said Semaj, ruffling her hair. "What's been going down?"

"Well, first of all, you were right, it was Arkhosian lingerie," said Sora. "She seemed really embarrassed to admit it. What _is_ lingerie?"

"…I'll tell you later," he said dismissively. "Anything else?"

"Well, she got a message from her friend at that place called Wizard's Tower," Sora jabbered. "There was this girl there who wanted to, like, have a girl body, you know? 'Cause she wasn't born with one or whatever? The wizard sent Anwen out to gather some ingredients. We went to Ulric's and Random's and this one tiefling merchant who it turns out is actually a devil of some kind. We went back to the tower, and Anwen read the ritual herself, and the girl nearly died, but Anwen pounded her chest and she didn't die. And while we were waiting for her to wake up, the wizard told her he's not a wizard, he's actually a warlock, and Anwen is a part of his evil infernal pact."

Semaj stroked his chin. "Wow… that is a lot to take in… quite a day… where's Anwen now?"

"I gave her the slip once we got back to the slums," said Sora.

"I see," said Semaj. "Well, very good work, Sora. You've earned your first-day bonus." He whipped out a slip of parchment. "Care to see the circus again tonight?"

"Yes, sir!" Sora said enthusiastically, taking the ticket. "Thank you very much, sir. I'll see you tomorrow."

Pelora frowned at Semaj. "Is Anwen in danger?"

"Nope, sounds like she's just had a big day just like you have," Semaj said smoothly. "I'm, ah… giving Sora some pocket money to make sure Anwen stays safe, you know."

"Okay," said Pelora. "Just make sure she's okay, I can't bear knowing she's harmed. She's my friend."

Semaj beamed. "She's my friend too. At least, she's the daughter of two of my very best friends. Now that I've found her, I want to keep an eye on her. I can't bear the thought of losing sight of her again."

"Thank you," said Pelora. "You're not a bad person and I trust you, after today. You're really a good, well-meaning person."

He broke out in a sincere, relieved smile. "Thank you, Pelora. That means the world to me." He turned to Sora. "So, you'll keep an eye on her tomorrow, then? And report back to me?"

"Yuppers," she said, saluting him.

"Excellent. Be on your way, then."

Sora bowed to him and exited the temple.

~0~0~0~

 **DM's Note:** _So… let me engage with the audience a bit, even though we don't really have much of one yet. What do you think of Semaj? He's definitely our main NPC, and yet, no one's ever really reacted to him the way I expected. So, tell me what you think of him. Or any character for that matter._

 _For my thoughts on Semaj, well, he's more interesting than I ever planned for him to be. In the original campaign, he was intended to just be the generic benefactor for the party, the mysterious stranger who brings them all together. To my surprise, both characters reacted to him very strongly: inexplicably, Meredith's Anwen was deeply suspicious of him, while Pelora was attracted to him. So, when I rebooted the campaign, I resolved to make him a person worthy of both of those reactions._

 _I think I've taken it so far that, as Semaj himself says in this episode, Kenzie's version of Anwen may never trust him again… and I'm good with that. That makes for an interesting dynamic. What threw me off a bit more was how Pelora seemed to instantly hate him. Eventually Naty explained to me that she was going for the sort of relationship where she hates him for a while before they grow into love interests. I had to tell her, nobody likes that trope, can we please not? But we made a plan to develop the relationship from the regrettable direction it had already taken, and I think the plan is going really well so far. No regrets._


	9. Circus Skirmish

**DM's Note:** _The time has come for Artin to join the party! Gave her a little cameo back in Episode 6, but back in the original campaign, the party was a trio from midway through their first battle. Back then, she was played by my friend Jack, who desperately wanted to be part of the campaign when I off-handedly told her I was running one. In this campaign, once we were finished roleplaying the two solo stories that made up Episode 8 at the end of October, I approached Jack about returning to the role, and, to my surprise and delight, she was up for it. I'll leave further details on Artin to the unsolicited player's note Jack sent me just after her first session. Yay!_

 **Player's Note from Jack/Artin:** _Jack here, I play Artin Arfire. I just rejoined the game after a flop of a campaign four years ago. Originally when my dear friend, our DM, approached me about joining his campaign, I created an androgynous sex fiend that was the manifestation of my obsession with the character Desire from Neil Gaiman's_ Sandman _, who was vetoed immediately on grounds that they were just too intense for the group we'd be playing with. Next up was Artin (alpha). I was delighted by the thought of my showgirl strongwoman; a ditzy diva obsessed with flashy dresses, and driven to make the whole world love her as much as she loved herself. This drove my dear DM absolutely bonkers, and we had something of a falling out over my refusal to take this game, which he had worked so very hard on, as seriously as it deserved to be taken. (It should be noted here that while I am not a seasoned dungeoneer, I do have enough experience with tabletop games to have become that wise-cracking derailer that all DMs despise.)_

 _Well, he approached me about trying it out again, and we had our first session; just a day in the life of Artin Arfire, the strongwoman in the traveling circus. She was different this time, in a way that both myself and (not to put words in his mouth) my DM found most appealing. She is still the showgirl she always was, but less vapid now. I think what made the most difference is that my DM inserted the fact that she is in an open poly relationship with the two strongmen in her act. Artin was always meant to be flirty and promiscuous (what can I say, I like playing sexy characters) but with that little change, she suddenly had people she cared about deeply and had a committed, loving relationship. Suddenly she wasn't so selfish (though her greatest desire is still to be loved by all). Needless to say, I am very excited about Artin Arfire beta and I cannot wait for our next session. Thanks, DM, for giving my favorite gal two strapping men—it changed her for the best! ;D_

 **DM's Note:** _Hi, me again. Just wanted to clarify a few of Jack's points. Her first character—a morally-ambiguous and gender-ambiguous tiefling paladin—was just too subversive for me, it was my first D &D game and I wanted characters who were more by-the-book. Jack is allergic to normal characters; last time we were both players in a game I was a dragonborn and she was a freaking dragon. So, her second choice was a dwarf fighter, and I was like, okay, that's nice and normal, the only suspicious thing in character generation was a mentioned obsession with frilly dresses, which I okayed because I assumed it was a _secret _obsession. When Artin turned up actually_ wearing _a frilly dress and acting all prissy, I was ticked off, and the bad mood her unintentional trickery put me in led to the death of the alpha campaign._

 _The new Artin isn't all that different; rather, I'm just a lot more relaxed than I was four years ago about allowing the story to have its comedic elements. The only change I requested was for the frilly dress obsession to actually be a secret… which remains a sticking point, Jack can't seem to imagine Artin without a dress. As for the strongmen, my exact words were that they were "frequently her lovers"—I'd never make such an important decision as an actual committed relationship, polyamorous or otherwise, on behalf of someone else's character, but that's how she interpreted it, so… now it's true. Improv! Writing this note right after Jack's first session in the new campaign—right at the part when Anwen and Pelora turn up—I too am excited for the new Artin and can't wait to find out how she meshes with the other characters._

~0~0~0~

 **WHIRLWIND**

 **Chapter 4: Three Quests  
** **Episode 9: Circus Skirmish**

" _Don't go walking home alone, now. You never know who's out there. Who might… snap. AHAHAHAHA!"  
_ Clark Harmon, human jester, 177 years after the fall

~0~0~0~

That night, a new audience began leaving the circus tent, as the workers and performers began cleaning up and preparing for the following night's show.

Sweet approached Artin at the center of the sandy pit. "Evening, Miss Arfire!" he said. "Great show this evening, as ever."

"Well, of course it was, Sweet," said Artin, flipping her hair and shaking dust and stone off of it. "I was in it." She shot him a confident grin, embellished with a suggestive wink. "What are you doing after clean-up tonight?"

Artin was a sturdy dwarf maiden, with light brown skin dotted with calluses and scars, strawberry-blonde hair done in pigtails, and wearing an armored dress of furry hide.

Sweet clicked his tongue at her, winking again. "Don't tempt me. Me and Nyarth are working on an epic ballad." He draped his arm across the shoulders of the young boy, who had appeared as if out of nowhere.

Artin sighed in mock lamentation. "Well, if I don't ask, then you'll never say yes," she said. "Just as well, I have other matters to attend… though…" She leaned forward, tickling Nyarth. "They can wait if you change your mind. You know where to find me." She flashed him another winning smile and exited the arena where the circus performances took place.

Following a short tunnel through to the amphitheatre's back door and the tent flap that covered it, she went up her personal wagon. Inside, candles flickered off the gaudy jewelry that decorated her collection of fancy, frilly dresses, but her eyes were on the sack of gold coins Semaj had given her. She opened the sack, and ran her fingers across the coins at the top of the pile.

There came a knock at the door of her wagon, and she answered to find it was Professor Hellburgh, the owner of the circus. A thin, lanky, aging man, he was missing an eye and an arm, which were replaced with fully functional magical prosthetics made of wood, glass, and clockwork.

"Hello, Artin," he said formally. "Good show today, as ever." He hesitated for a moment before proceeding. "I don't mean to pry, but I've been hearing rumors that you're considering leaving us. May I ask what's going on?"

Artin shrugged. "I don't know, Professor. Some guy made me a very tempting offer yesterday… he thinks I can make a difference in the world? Through fighting crime, or something of that nature."

"I see," Hellburgh said solemnly. "And are you… considering it?"

"Well… I am," Artin admitted.

He sighed. "Well, we're going to miss you around here. If you take him up on it… best of luck."

Suddenly, Professor Hellburgh was brushed aside by two enormous figures: Alec, a muscular human with a magnificent blond mustache, and Hak-Tonog, a goliath with stony gray skin nearly twice Artin's height.

"Artin," Alec sobbed, his eyes welling up with tears. "Tell us it isn't true! You're not abandoning the circus for mercenary work, are you?"

"Oh! My boys…" Artin stepped out of the wagon and took them each by a hand. "My dears, to be honest I haven't fully decided yet, but the more I think on it, the more it makes sense that it might be time for me to seek new endeavors in life. I'm only sixty-two—that's too young to settle down forever. I need new experiences… not that the old ones have been so bad, mind you." She kissed and nibbled Alec's fingertips, making him laugh and blush.

Hak-Tonog knelt down, still towering over her. "Artin, some little girl snuck into the tent. She's looking for you. I think she's a fan."

Artin perked up. She pulled at Alec's hand to bring his face close enough to give him a kiss on the cheek, then sprung into Hak-Tonog's lap to do the same. "I can't keep my fan waiting, dears!" she said brightly. "I will not leave… without letting you know about it." She hopped down and headed back into the tent with a spring in her step.

In the midst of the arena was a young half-elven girl wrapped in an oversized white fur coat. "Hey!" she chirped. "I'm Sora. I saw your act yesterday… and then again today, because I really wanted to. Semaj pointed you out to me and told me you're thinking of joining the team. I gotta say, I really like your act."

Artin swelled up with pride, and grabbed Sora's unoffered hand to shake it. "So good to meet you, always happy to know my fans! Would you like an autograph, dear?" Without waiting for an answer, she produced a drawn likeness of herself posing with her hammer. "Turn around dear, let me use your back as a writing surface."

Sora danced in place excitedly. "Oh, hell yeah!" She turned her back to Artin, who began writing on the poster. "I'm working for Semaj too," Sora said conversationally. "I get a gold piece a day for keeping an eye on Anwen and keeping her safe. This is my first day on the job, so I also got a circus ticket."

Artin withdrew the poster, and Sora turned around, holding up a single gold coin. "I've never held a gold piece in my life, it's awesome," she concluded.

"A whole gold piece a day, you say?" Artin said absently. "My, that's very exciting. Life as a working gal can be very tough. Have you been taught how to tell that your pay ain't been cheated?"

Sora grinned at the message Artin had written on the portrait: _To Sora, keep your arms strong and your dreams stronger. Artin Arfire_. "Awesome," she remarked. "Um… well… how would I be cheated?" She looked at her single coin in concern. "It's real, isn't it?"

"Come, dear," said Artin, "a working gal must know these things, and we gotta stick together! Let me show you how it's done."

Artin guided Sora back to her wagon, showing her a real gold piece and a replica.

"See, the first way you can tell is by biting it," she explained. "Real gold is soft and will leave imprints from your teeth." She pointed out the light indentations on the real coin. "Fake is usually either too hard or too soft, and will leave either no indentations at all, or so deep it could actually mar the coin. The best way, though, is by weight. It may take some time to get there, but invest in a good set of scales, because one gold piece should be one-tenth of a pound."

She demonstrated, placing the real coin on a set of brass scales, where it balanced perfectly.

"If it's more or less instead of equal…" She switched the gold coin with the fake, and the balance was upset. "You know it's fake and you've been cheated. When you are able, check the gold before you've sealed the deal. Does that help, dear?"

Sora paid rapt attention to this entire explanation, before turning glumly to her own coin. She bit into it, then placed it on the scale; by all appearances, it was quite legitimate. Sora sighed with relief and smiled. "Ah, I knew it was real. Semaj has a huge house and dresses real fancy—he wouldn't need to pay me fake coins." She took up her coin and, with the solid realization that it was quite real, started giggling madly.

Artin smiled, then paused. "Wait, did you say Semaj? What are you doing for him?"

Sora blinked at her. "I… I keep an eye on Anwen… and report back to him… didn't I say that?"

"Oh, that's the girl who died and was resurrected? That's some spooky stuff." She eyed Sora. "Were you 'keeping an eye on her' when that happened?"

"Nah, I only started today. And today was fun, today she was gathering ingredients for a ritual. I met lots of interesting shopkeepers."

Artin relaxed. "What do you know of Semaj? What are the specifics of what he asked you to do, and where is this Anwen if you are to keep watch over her?"

"Semaj? Not much," said Sora. "Snappy dresser, lives in a big mansion in the north gate district, and he's putting a team together. Whirlwind. The name was my idea, you know. Kinda. And Anwen… well, she's sort of a local hero in my neighborhood, way off in the corner of the slums district. She keeps muggers and gangs and stuff off our backs, since the city guard doesn't come up there all that much. I watched her do her stuff today, and now… now I'm on break."

"Well, Sora, what do you think about this team?" Artin asked. "Is some sort of vigilante group… how is that going to change the world in any way?"

Sora shrugged. "I really don't know. Semaj just keeps saying 'the world needs heroes'." She inspected Artin carefully. "You think you could be a hero?"

"I…" Artin paused. "What I want is to be known. I never considered 'hero' as the way to do it and quite frankly, hero work seems a longer and more dangerous path than the one I am on now. I ain't exactly thrilled by the thought of hurting folk."

"I think it's more about protecting people," Sora said thoughtfully. "Anwen and Pelora, they, like, they've fought to save people, and given people new starts to their lives… I bet it feels really good. If it's being known that you want… well, everybody in my neighborhood knows Anwen. And there's been a lot of talk about Pelora since she started hanging out with Anwen. Hey—not up to me. Your decision. Me…" She flipped her coin and caught it neatly. "I'm happy to be on the team. Ooooh…" Seeing some circus performers walk by, she raced up to them, blocking their path. "Hi! You guys are amazing acrobats! I really love your work!"

Once Artin was alone, Alec and Hak-Tonog approached her again. She greeted them with a soft, sad smile and leaned against Hak-Tonog's leg. "I don't know what to do, my loves. I don't want to leave, but what if that is the path I must take to accomplish my goals?"

Alec knelt down to be at her eye level. "I think you have a beautiful dream," he said grandly. "Your name up in lights, known by all. I want to see that. But perhaps you've grown too big for our little circus. Perhaps your mighty hammer is better suited elsewhere."

Artin placed her palm against his face, stroking it with her thumb, before looking up at Hak-Tonog. "And what say you, my larger-than-life lover?"

He cleared his throat before speaking. "Personally, I don't want to see you go anywhere. But I'd never try to chain your free spirit."

She hugged him around his legs. "I must consider my options fully," she said. "I need both of you to know that I will not take this decision lightly, for this circus is my family, and life without your love seems dim indeed."

They both wrapped their massive arms around her.

Meanwhile, Sora was flitting around from one performer to another, finally coming upon Sweet. "Hi, Sweet!" she said with admiration. "Oh my gosh, you're so great! All your songs and dances are so funny and silly…"

Sweet's smile turned into a grimace of pure hatred. "THAT'S IT!" he yelled, and he struck Sora across the face.

A silence fell over the circus, everyone staring at Sweet in shock. Sweet realized this, and made a hasty decision, grabbing Sora by the neck and drawing a small handheld crossbow, pointing it at her head. "Nobody takes a step closer or the little girl gets it!" he shrieked.

Stunned, Artin dipped beneath her friends' arms, spreading her hands and slowly approaching Sweet, keeping her distance. "Sweet… whoa there, Sweet… I don't know where this is coming from, but please, let's just calm down and lower your weapon."

"You don't know where this is COMING from?!" he snarled. "What would you know, you rock-smasher? I'm sick of being disrespected! I'm too good for this circus shit! I'm not supposed to be 'funny' and 'silly'—I'm a real artist! I'm getting the hell out of this dump. But first I'm taking what's mine. What I deserve. What I'm WORTH! Somebody go get the Professor!"

"Alec! Get the Professor, now!" Artin ordered. "Come quickly, but be cautious coming back!" Alec retreated into the circus tent, and Artin took another, single step forward. "Sweet, she's just a little girl. She doesn't know your work. There is not a soul in this circus who doesn't see how talented you are. Please, let her go, and let us talk about this."

His face softened, and he slowly began to lower the crossbow, but he didn't release Sora's neck. "Don't you see?" he whispered. "Don't you see what I've just done? I screwed up. I can't turn back." He steeled his face and pointed the crossbow at Sora one more. "If I have to go to hell, it'll be on my terms. Nobody else's."

"No!" Artin cried out in a panic. "No, Sweet, it doesn't have to be like that. We all get frustrated and we all go through hard days. This is just another hard day, but it is nothing you can't come back from. Now, that little girl, her name is Sora. She may have used the wrong words for it, but she thinks you are mighty talented, a voice like an angel and fingers that strum so delicately that they would make spiderwebs sing. It's okay to be frustrated. Just let Sora go and it will all be okay."

Sora looked up at Sweet, who had no response but to set his jaw and bare his teeth. Alec and Professor Hellburgh came running out of the tent. Instantly, the Professor's mechanical arm morphed into a crossbow of his own, and he pointed it at Sweet. "What gives, Mister Sweet?" he said dangerously. "What do you think you're doing?"

"You don't want to shoot me, Professor," said Sweet, squeezing Sora's neck tighter. "I want ten thousand crowns, in gold pieces, a getaway vehicle, and nobody to call the city guard on me until I reach the city limits! I'm getting out of here and starting over."

Artin glowered. "No. You will release her now. If you want to leave the circus, fine. Do it right now with nothing but the clothes on your back. You don't like that option? Fine." She took her heavy hammer off of her back and looked around at the troupe. "What will happen if you stay your course, Sweet? Kill the girl, then what next? No one here will let you escape with your life if you harm a hair on her innocent head. You've seen me smash a thousand boulders alone, Sweet. Your head would be like a soft melon in comparison."

He pressed the crossbow hard against Sora's cheek, the tip of the arrow leaving a tiny cut there as his hands shook. "D-don't threaten me, Artin," he mumbled. "I'm gonna… I'm gonna… okay, FINE!" He released Sora, shoving her to the ground. "I didn't really have it in my heart to shoot the kid. But I'm still getting out of here! You've seen what you've seen. I know I can't un-ring a bell. I'm leaving now."

Artin rushed forward and knelt beside Sora, pulling the girl into her arms. "I've got you now, dear, no harm will befall you here." She looked up at Sweet with tender eyes. "You have a good heart, Sweet. Please do not let this day turn you hard. I wish you a prosperous path full of the joy and recognition that you seek, for you are my friend and I would prefer it no other way."

He sighed. "I…"

Before he could say anything more, a group of city guards appeared, rushing in from the south. A meek halfling man, one of the circus workers, trailed behind them; apparently he had slipped away to alert the guards. Sweet stared out at the guards, his face blank. Then, from the north, came Anwen and Pelora, weapons in hand.

Sweet sighed again, exasperated this time. He brought his crossbow to bear, then drew his short sword. "Nothing for it but to go down in a blaze of glory, I suppose."

Sora stood up and ran off, out of sight. As the three women began advancing on him, Sweet placed his sword-wielding hand suggestively over his groin. He performed a pelvic thrust and cried out, "HEE-hee!" in a high falsetto. Magical energy erupted around the sword before blasting Artin from a distance.

"Gods, Sweet!" Artin grumbled. "I wish you'd shown me that trick before today! I'd asked plenty enough times…"

Anwen took a few steps forward, glaring hard at Sweet, before picking up her pace and charging him, slashing at him repeatedly with her scimitar but missing every time. "Damn!" she hissed.

He danced around her strikes. "Oops!" he taunted cheerfully. "Haha!"

Pelora shot a beam of light at Sweet, which scorched the dirt beneath his feet. Artin stepped forward and swung her massive hammer, hitting him in both knees at once.

Sweet tried to take a step back, but he had been hobbled by Artin's strike. He spread his arms and sang a single high note, enveloping Artin and Anwen in a surge of magic.

Anwen sprang into position behind Sweet, slapping him in the head with the flat of her axe. He turned around to face her and was greeted by a scimitar slash that left a diagonal cut across his face.

"Bard, stop this nonsense while you still can!" Pelora called out, distraught. He didn't heed her, continuing to beat back Anwen and Artin. Pelora stepped forward, twirled her staff, and thrust out both of her hands. A wave of white light washed over all three combatants, causing Artin to glow as her injuries were mended, and Pelora's holy symbol to glow white.

Artin hefted her hammer, readying it for another swing. "I tried telling you to stand down!" she declared. "You may still surrender anytime you choose. If you choose not to, I'll do more than destroy your knees. My next shot is your pretty voice box."

"Bring it on!" he roared, spreading his arms. "I'm all in!"

"Just remember this when you can no longer sing for your supper!"

Artin swung her hammer, hitting him right in the neck, bringing him violently to the ground, unconscious and bleeding from the throat, but still alive. The surrounding circus workers and guards began to murmur among themselves.

Pelora threw her staff to the ground and ran to Sweet's side. "Sweet!" she cried, kneeling beside him. "Why did he do this? He was so kind, there has to be a reason!"

"He was tired of being taken for granted," Artin grunted. "He threatened that girl-child Sora. I tried to talk him down, and I think I almost had him, but then the guard showed up and he chose to go out in a firefight. Not that the guard did _anything_ to help the situation." She sighed and kicked Sweet's leg. "I gave him every chance, the damned fool."

Pelora gazed at Artin. "But I saw him as a friend. He was so kind to me when I was heartbroken and upset over feelings. Sometimes people act wrong, because they're angry or afraid."

"Yeah, that's a weird personality shift," Anwen remarked. "But even still, Pelly, you barely knew him. Don't try to defend him after he nearly hurt a kid."

Two of the guards stepped forward, the same man and woman whom Povel had summoned in the river district. "Good work, citizens," said the man, glaring at Artin. "City guards aren't often equipped to take down a magic-user like that, so… good job. Say, I know you two."

"Yeah," the woman realized. "Is us dragging unconscious people away from you gonna be a regular thing from here on out?"

"Possibly," Anwen mumbled, shrugging.

"Might as well get to know each other," said the man, smirking. "I'm Arkhan, she's Tenna."

"What you are is useless," Artin retorted. "The situation was under control until you showed up!"

"Because they're not trained to handle actual conflict that risks themselves," Anwen said contemptuously.

"I am Pelora," Pelora offered feebly.

"In other words, cowards," Anwen concluded.

Arkhan stepped up to Anwen, looking her in the eye fearlessly. "We're trained soldiers, young lady," he said darkly. "You want there to be friction between you adventurers and the city guard? Fine. Now there's _friction_. Now if you'll excuse us, we need to take this gentleman to the hospital so he can go to jail."

"Straight to jail at once?!" Pelora said in alarm. "Aren't you going to hear him out, finding out the truth?"

"Well, I can't say I'm surprised I pissed them off," Anwen muttered to no one as the guards began to drag Sweet away.

"Pelora, he chose this," Artin growled. "He threatened Sora's life and then all of ours. He's their problem now."

"Hearing him out is the judge's business," Tenna agreed. "As it is, we can see that, by all accounts, he initiated a hostage situation. Let his lawyer dream up some excuses."

Anwen nodded to Pelora. Artin glared at Sweet one last time and whispered, "Traitor."

Pelora whimpered, then got to her feet. "I should probably go now," she said. "My business is done here."

Sora returned, breathing heavily and looking around wildly. "Hey!" she said, almost bumping into Pelora. "I went and I… I found… Semaj…"

Semaj was a few steps behind her. "What is this?" he said in surprise, looking around at the guards and the still-frightened circus workers. "What happened here?"

"Of course," Anwen mumbled, squeezing the bridge of her nose. "Just stay quiet, Anwen."

Pelora ran up to Semaj and collided with him, embracing him tightly. "Take me away from here…" she begged, breaking down in tears. "Just find a memory potion or spell. I don't want to remember this…"

Surprised, Semaj awkwardly hugged Pelora back. "Hey… it's okay… you're gonna be okay… I… don't know that such a potion exists… but I can ask around…"

"What's her deal?!" Artin growled. "She didn't know him! She didn't just pulverize her friend! Why are you even here?"

"She gets easily and emotionally attached to people that make a good first impression on her," Anwen said sardonically.

"She—" Artin raged. "I—this—ARRUGH!" She howled at the top of her lungs in anguish, crumpling facedown to the ground, her continued howls muffled by dirt.

"Get up!" Anwen snarled. "Why am I surrounded by drama queens?"

Artin's head snapped up and glared at Anwen. "Do not dare to know me, half-elf."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey, hey…" Semaj said hastily, coming between them. "Take it easy, there, team. Let's not… not antagonize our co-workers…"

"Wait, he isn't evil," Pelora pleaded. "He just made a few mistakes, but Semaj is truly kind and well-meaning. And… well, we probably shouldn't be fighting."

"Well, in all fairness, Artin has a right to be pissed, and Pelora is just…" Anwen stammered. "Pelly, you didn't know him, I didn't know him, Artin has. Think about how _she_ feels." She turned to Artin, downcast. "Sorry, for that comment."

"But he was so kind to me!" Pelora exclaimed. "How can a person, who first was so kind, suddenly turn out like that? I don't understand how that can happen, it's not even logical!"

"Once again," Anwen sighed, "you. Don't. _Know_. This man."

"I… it was my fault," said Sora. "I said he was funny and silly, and… I guess he didn't want to hear that. He wanted to be a serious artist and I guess I rubbed him the wrong way."

Nyarth came up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder. "It's not your fault. He gets that a lot. He never liked it, but I never imagined he'd… I guess it was the last straw."

"Why do you have to be so cold all the time?!" Pelora vented to Anwen. "You don't trust people, you think the world is so cruel, cold, and uncomfortable. But there is some good in this world still, only you act so short-sighted that you don't want to see it!"

Artin stood up and calmly brushed the dirt from her dress.

"He entertained you for a few minutes," said Anwen. "That's not enough of a bond to say and know he's a wonderful person, Pelly. Why don't you trust the people who actually knew him, and his victim? You can call me cold and distrustful all you want, but I'm still right."

"Easy, easy!" Semaj said wildly. "What even is this? You keep on… look. While I've got all three of you together… Anwen. Pelora. Artin. The time is coming for Whirlwind to be, like, a real thing. Why don't we… have a little meeting… in the forest just outside the north gate. Meet me there tomorrow morning just after sunrise, and we'll make a decision. If… if you can settle this. I'll see… however many of you can relax a little… there and then."

Anwen crossed her arms before glancing at him. "Fine."

Semaj walked away, disappearing into the darkness.

Nyarth came forward, rubbing his arms anxiously. "Sweet was… well, he was a sweet guy, but what he just did…" He looked to the small cut on Sora's cheek. "This was unforgivable. I can't believe I never anticipated that he'd snap like this. Maybe I did, but…" He sighed, and picked up the scraps of parchment he and Sweet had been working on. "I'm never gonna get this epic composed by myself… he ain't coming back…"

Sora put a hand on his back to comfort him. "So, I was taken hostage for a moment there," she said conversationally. "That was… that was pretty scary."

Pelora sighed, her shoulders sinking in defeat. "Okay," she said. "I didn't knew him, you all are right and I'm a fool for trusting a stranger who comforted me during my heartache which no one cared about. Is it what you wanted to hear, Anwen?"

"I'm sorry, your heartache? What?" said Anwen, bewildered. "Wait, are you talking about—oh for the love of… _Communicate!_ I can't read your mind!"

"Well, do you remember yesterday when we met first at the temple, then had the tour of the town, and later, saw the circus?"

Anwen nodded.

"Well, my bad mood was because of I realized I liked someone romantically, which had never happened to me before," Pelora admitted.

"Oh right, you were upset about that," Anwen said blankly. "Look, I wanted to understand, and I'm sorry I didn't. But now you have to understand Artin's feelings."

Nyarth went up to Artin and helped her brush off some dirt. "You okay? That… wasn't easy to watch. I never thought I'd see Sweet aim to kill like that. You… you did good."

In the meantime, Sora went for Pelora's staff, picking it up off the ground and giving it a few swings. "Ahhhh," she said, nodding. "I get it. Staff's not magic. _Pelora_ is magic. Yeah… cool…"

"But of course," Pelora said with a smile, taking her staff back. "It would be unwise to wield a magical weapon which anyone could use. So, I use my staff since my magic can channel through it."

Anwen grabbed Sora and pulled her into a hug, ruffling her hair. "What did I say about you not getting into danger?"

"Well, I wasn't _in_ danger before that clown went crazy and tried to kill everybody," Sora grumbled. "I was just visiting the circus, for gods' sakes…"

Artin put her hands on Nyarth's shoulders, looking him in the eye before giving him a hug. "I'm so sorry, Nyarth… that wasn't something I would have wanted either of us—any of us in the circus—to go through."

"Yeah, that was messed up," Nyarth agreed. "I… think he's gonna be stuck in a Sheradon prison when the circus leaves in eight days…" He tilted his head at Artin. "And where will you be, then, Artin? Are you… staying with them?" He gestured to Anwen, Pelora, and Sora.

"I still don't know, Nyarth," she admitted. "I didn't like hurting Sweet, but I was glad to be able to help Sora. You know you are my family, right? I don't want to leave my family… how would that make me any different from Sweet? Abandoning the circus, I mean, not holding children hostage…"

Alec and Hak-Tonog loomed over Artin, putting their hands on her comfortingly. She smiled at them and gave Alec's hand a squeeze. "Thank you for being so quick with fetching the Professor."

Alec shrugged. "It was the very least I could do. Had I reacted faster, I may have helped you strike him down. I'm glad you did it so well on your own."

"Yes…" the Professor said uneasily, his crossbow-arm clattering back into the shape of an ordinary arm. "It's… certainly alarming that Mister Sweet could suddenly become… like this. Nyarth, do you think you could handle the opening act alone?"

Nyarth looked fearful, but nodded.

"I am serious, my beloveds," Artin lamented. "My heart is split in two. It is telling me to go, but also that it will break for sadness if I leave you all. How can I leave when Sweet has hurt us all? How can I leave when the ones I love most are here?"

~0~0~0~

The following morning, Pelora was up before the sun, standing in the mouth of the north gate, gazing out into the grass-lined path beyond. She proceeded, eager to find what awaited her.

Soon, Artin was at the gate as well, somber, but determined.

Anwen arrived in the north gate district and watched as first Pelora then Artin proceeded through the gate. She followed them to the city's exit, and watched them disappear into the morning mist.

Her heart thumping, Anwen took one last look at the city, before crossing its walls for the first time in her life. Letting out a breath, she marched down the path, following the others.

Soon, she had caught up to them, and the three of them walked down the forest path together in silence. The first they saw of Semaj was an orange flash as he lit a cigar, before he emerged from the fog.

"Good to see you all here," he said. "I, uh… I had a Whirlwind emblem designed, sort of a… a sigil." He held up a blue flag bearing the symbol of a swirling hurricane. "I hope you like it. We can workshop it. Listen… we're kind of scattered around the city right now. And what I want is for us to be a real adventuring company. And an adventuring company needs a headquarters. What I'd like… is for each of you to move into your own rooms, in my mansion. Does… that sound acceptable?"

~0~0~0~

 **DM's Note:** _Artin's impromptu, unintentional-on-my-part committed relationship was sufficient to change Artin's alignment from Chaotic Neutral to Chaotic Good. Yes, I'm using the traditional nine-alignment grid system; that was the first deviation from 4E I ever made, because 4th Edition's five-alignment sliding scale is fucking stupid. Most people say the tabletop gaming hobby as a whole has outgrown the alignment system, but I still enjoy the philosophical implications of the classical system and the roleplaying framework it provides. Artin becoming Chaotic Good makes her the same alignment as Anwen, while Pelora is Lawful Good—so, not as much alignment friction as I thought there would be; the morally-ambiguous Artin I was expecting has been restructured into a solidly heroic individual. There's definitely been some friction between Anwen and Pelora that could be interpreted as Law-versus-Chaos issues. It's all really cool._

 _I have a couple of milestone ideas for Chapter 5, and other than that I'll be devoting it to clearing up the loose ends left by Chapter 4; conveniently, each player left exactly one thing for me to interpret as a loose end: Anwen's promise to hang out with Ulric, Pelora's promise to search for Gliss, and Artin's private desire to consult with her circus mates about whether to join Whirlwind or not. See, Artin no longer being selfish and driven solely by the promise of fame and money has introduced a snag in the plotline; to wit, how to convince this person to join Whirlwind instead of staying with a circus she now views as family? Difficult, but not impossible; I think I have an idea. And other than that, like I said… milestones. Awesome ones._


	10. A Peculiar Chase

**DM's Note:** _Chapter 5 began near the end of November 2018, Episode 10 ending right at the end of December._

~0~0~0~

 **WHIRLWIND**

 **Chapter 5: The Decision  
** **Episode 10: A Peculiar Chase**

" _The daily things that keep us all busy are confusing me."  
_ Uraki Hadatu, human bard, 2,000 years before the fall

~0~0~0~

Silence hung over them for some time before Semaj raised his hands. "There's no need to answer right now. Why don't you take a day to think about it? We'll meet up later, at the… at the temple of Pelor. What do you think?"

Pelora smirked. "It is not a coincidence you choose the temple I live in to meet up, is it?"

"Seemed as good a place as any," he replied, smiling back.

Anwen raised an eyebrow at them, before coughing to interrupt. "Yeah, sure," she agreed.

"So why did you ask us all here today, Semaj?" Artin asked.

Semaj leaned against a tree and gave it a light kick. "Thought you could use a change of scenery. Just a brief reminder that there's more of a world outside of Sheradon. Long way to go just to invite you to live with me, I know. I have a certain… flair. You've noticed."

"Got that right," said Artin. "You're flamboyant enough to make it in the circus."

Anwen nodded. "That's one way of putting it."

Rain began to sprinkle down from the gray clouds above. Semaj looked up at the sky, rain flecking his glasses. "Anyway. Think about it for a while. Spend some real time together, the three of you. I'll see you at the temple around sunset. Okay?" He walked past them, returning to the city through the mist.

"Well this is going to be interesting…" Anwen muttered. "All right, listen, I know you two haven't gotten along and… as much as it pains me to say, Semaj is right. So just… figure something out with you two."

"Well," said Artin, eyeing Pelora. "I guess I could use a girl's day out. There's gotta be a spa somewhere in this town."

"Well, I know a salon," Anwen said. "And the temple has an amazing shower." She sighed fondly at the memory.

"It's settled, then!" said Artin. "Let's get pampered like ladies of _my_ caliber should be. Lead the way…" She paused.

"…Anwen," Anwen supplied, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow.

Pelora wasn't listening, instead staring into the mist where Semaj had disappeared.

"Pelora?" said Anwen, inspecting her before snapping her finger in front of the cleric's eyes. "Pelora! Are you with us?"

"What is it, my friend?" said Pelora. "Is something the matter?"

"Pilroar," Artin urged. "Spa. Let's go." She started skipping down the path. "C'mon, c'mon! It's been too long since I had a massage!"

~0~0~0~

When the three of them passed through the gates of the city once again, Sora ran up to them, gasping for breath, having clearly run there all the way from the slums. She held up one finger before catching her breath. "Okay," she said. "I'm here. Forgot you were getting up early. So, where we goin', what we doin'?"

"The spa!" Artin sang. "Let's go!"

"Hold it, Artin!" Anwen called. "Um… kid, we're just going to… er, bond. I see you're still working that coat, eh?"

"Spa?" said Sora, wrinkling her nose. "Er… okay. Yeah. Totally. Let's bond." She ruffled Alduin Fivetails's oversized white coat. "Yeah, the coat's awesome. It's heavy, but I think I can pull it off."

"You don't have to come with us if you don't want to," said Anwen. "I mean, we'll probably be there all day and… spa-ing… like you do."

"Oh, nonsense!" said Artin. "Every gal deserves a spa day every once in a while!"

Sora laughed appreciatively. "I… think it's best if I stick with you."

Pelora raised a hand. "I have never been at a spa before, so… what do you do in there?"

"Oh, it's wonderful!" said Artin. "You get mud baths and mineral baths and they'll massage you with special oils to make you soft for days! Manicures, pedicures, some of them are even salons to give you hair care. It's quite the pleasure to attend."

"Mud baths?" Pelora repeated, hesitating. "…Is it really safe?"

Anwen bit her lip, her hands reflexively going to her own shoulders.

"As long as it isn't some creepy back-alley creepy place, there's no reason to shy away," said Artin. "As for the mud bath, if you don't want it, I'll take yours off your hands."

"Well, I know of this place that there are oils, lotions, and antidotes…" said Anwen. "But I didn't really stay long to find out more."

As they passed between the temple of Pelor and Snowfire Stable, Micah emerged through the doors riding one of the resident horses, followed by Gary on his crodlu.

"Morning, ladies!" said Micah. "Anwen and Pelora. Good to see you."

"Miss Pelora," Gary added, winking at her.

"Does that guy have an eye problem?" Anwen whispered.

"Not what I know of," Pelora replied quietly. "Perhaps he got just sand in his eye. Odd it happens every time I pass through… perhaps my feet drags a layer of dust?"

Anwen snorted. "You as well, sirs."

"Oh—oh my," said Artin, looking over the two men. She played with her hair for a moment. "I am Artin Arfire! You've probably heard of me. Who might you be, handsome sirs?"

Micah laughed. "You flatter a humble stable hand. I am Micah, keeper of Snowfire Stable. Gary and I were just going out to exercise the animals. The rain, it's bracing, is it not?"

"Hi," said Gary, waving to her. "I'm here to learn how to train and care for my crodlu. Hopefully I'll get the knack for it before the dang thing eats any horses. Artin, you said your name was? Huh… not sure I've heard of you, though you definitely keep prestigious company."

"Prestigious?" Artin scoffed, turning to glare at Pelora before facing Micah directly. "Micah, you say? I do love earthy names. Yes, the rain—it makes a gal feel the wilderness grow inside her." She grinned at him, her eyes gleaming.

"What the heck is she doing?" Anwen muttered.

Micah puffed out his impressive chest, pleased at the attention. "Indeed! Good to meet you, Miss Artin. Best wishes today. If you wish to learn more about the nature of these magnificent beasts, do come visit my stable. Hyah!" With a snap of the reins, his horse raced out the gate into the forest, pursued by Gary's crodlu.

"It's a date!" Artin called after him, waggling her fingertips in his direction. As soon as he was gone, she spun on her heel. "Spa time, hup hup! No time to waste now, I've got _plans_!"

~0~0~0~

Led by Anwen, the four of them arrived at Random's Tattoo Parlor. Pelora looked at the sign out front uncomfortably. "Well…" she said. "If you don't mind, perhaps it's better I don't really get anything from here. Tattoos and piercing isn't my thing and I'm rather satisfied with how my body looks like."

Anwen blushed and bit her lip, rubbing the back of her head. "Er… this is the closest that I can think of when it comes to spas…" She chuckled nervously.

"Uh… okay," said Artin. "This is not what I was expecting, Anwen." She pushed through the doors. "Hello? Uh… shopkeep… body artist?"

"Body artist," said the big gray parrot. "Body artist!"

"That's me!" said Random, the petite tiefling woman instantly swooping upon Artin. "The name is Random, what can I do for you?" She looked past Artin to Anwen. "Ah, hello again! How fared your experiment with the lavender oil?"

Anwen nodded. "Yeah, it worked pretty well."

"Miss Random," said Artin, her gaze scanning Random's leather-clad, tattoo-covered body. "How wonderful to meet such a… lovely creature such as yourself. My associate here informs me that we might enjoy something of a spa day in your fine shop?"

Random's large black eyes looked over Artin in return, a long black fingernail clacking against her teeth. Her smile faded as she processed Artin's words. "Spa day? Hrmm… I'm afraid you were misinformed. I can wash your hair for you real cheap, but that's as far as it goes. If it's a spa day you're after… Carafina, what's the name of the place?"

"Tawny's, ma'am," said her red-haired human assistant. "Tawny's Glade."

"Tawny's Glade, that's the ticket," said Random, nodding. "It's something of a bathhouse, though to hear tell it's more of a sylvan glen, packed with druid magic. But don't let me turn you off from enjoying my services. May I offer you hair dye? A tattoo? How about a nipple piercing?" She produced two piercing needles, holding them uncomfortably close to Anwen's eyes. "A nice surprise for your… _guests_ when that supple leather slides off you, yes? Tempting?"

Anwen backed away calmly, shrugging. "I wouldn't mind a different hair color, in all honesty." She turned to the others. "You guys go to that Tawny's place, I'll meet up with you."

"Hair it is," Random said graciously. "Step right over to the sink and we'll get you started. Carafina, you know Tawny's better than I do, give these ladies their directions."

"Nipple piercing," said the parrot.

"Quiet, you," Random said, amused.

"Oh, Miss Random, you are quite the temptress!" said Artin. "Well, as long as Anwen is staying, I might as well indulge! But only if I'll be in your talented hands. I'd like a shampoo and, well, I'd like to hear more about your piercing offers."

"I think I wait by Tawny's, if you don't mind," Pelora mumbled, uncomfortably eyeing the parrot.

Carafina approached Pelora. "Tawny's is in the south gate district, right by the gate proper," she said. "You can't miss the place—it's quite huge, as the building encircles a real forest clearing. I've enjoyed their services. It's a bit strange, all the druid stuff, but it truly does heal and cleanse the body."

Sora eyed Random eagerly. "How much for a tongue stud?"

"Glad you asked!" Random chirped. "I charge five crowns for most of my procedures. I reserve the right to charge more if a request is particularly extravagant, but five crowns for any tattoo, piercing, or modification is the going rate. A magical tattoo will run you anywhere from six hundred to eight hundred crowns—components for the magic ritual don't come cheap."

Sora produced two gold coins and glared at them disdainfully before pocketing them again. "I'll be back in three days."

"Works for me!" said Random, before turning to Artin. "And what interests you, my dear?"

"Well, I like my hair the color that it is," Artin said wistfully. "How dark it seems in dim light, but in the sunshine, it turns almost auburn. But I do love a good shampoo and condition, with a nice scalp massage. And a piercing too… though I'm torn between eyebrow, belly button, septum, and nipple. Will you choose for me, darling Random?"

Random grinned. "Well, I see you gathered from my choice of name that I love a good arbitrary decision. How about we start with the belly button and you can come back for more once you're ready to be even more charming?"

"I'm not sure if that's even possible—or at the very least, it would not be fair to the fellow creatures on the planet!" She grinned, cupping her cheeks with her hands. "At your leisure, I am ready, dear."

Anwen shrugged. "You're paying for it," she warned.

"Well, duh," Artin snorted.

~0~0~0~

Pelora and Sora arrived at Tawny's Glade, a large building marked as a bathhouse and a center of druidic health and wellness, though it looked more like a defensible fortress.

Sora looked impressed. "I've… never been to a spa," she said, scratching her arms. "Are your muscles getting all twitchy? My muscles are getting twitchy."

Pelora shrugged. "I never had any massage before, so this is my first time."

"That's what I'm sayin'," said Sora. "Neither have I. My muscles are all… like they know… you know?"

They entered the building, finding themselves in a small room. There were two girls behind the counter, both dark-skinned with large, animal-like eyes and sharp canine teeth. "Hello, ladies," said the older of the two. "How can we help you?"

Pelora waved at them. "Hello, we're just waiting here for our two other friends, since we're having a spa day here. I have never been at a spa before, to be honest."

"Well, as you may have heard, our glade offers a druidic, naturalistic approach to spa services. You may bathe in our many hot springs, receive a massage, or simply enjoy the glade, which takes the form of the deep forest, a kind of nature so hard to come by here in the city."

Pelora looked toward the door seemingly leading deeper into the building. "Well, that is something to look forward to then. It must look so lovely and natural. As far I've heard, this place is very well spoken of."

"Ten gold pieces per customer," said the other, younger girl. At Sora's dumbfounded expression, she added, "Well worth it, I assure you."

"Well, as for now, we're still waiting for our friends to show up," Pelora told them. "Is it all right if we look around in meantime?"

The older girl tapped the door. "There's nothing to see here but the glade, and you must pay the fee to enter. Feel free to wait for your friends here in the entrance hall. Do tell us if you need anything. My name is Falcon, and my sister is Flower."

"Yes, it was very nice to meet both of you," said Pelora with a small bow of her head. "We'll remain here until our friends rejoins us."

They took seats, and Sora shifted uncomfortably, finally working up the courage to speak. "Pelora… have you told Anwen about my arrangement with Semaj? That he pays me to keep an eye on her? I, uh… I haven't told her myself yet, and I'm not sure… what she'll think…"

Pelora thought. "You know… it sounds like you're watching Anwen for her safety, so that's not really stalking. He told me that he cares for Anwen, and her parents were his friends, so I think it's nothing wrong with watching her. But I think Anwen would appreciate if she hears it from you, rather from anyone else."

Sora flinched. "Yeah… that's what I thought… okay… I'll tell her when we're in the glade thingy."

Sometime later, Anwen and Artin arrived, their hair freshly washed and fluffed. Anwen's hair was now a deep purple, and Artin had a navel ring.

"My, my," said Pelora, beholding Anwen. "Your hair is just purple as fresh and ripe plums! You look so different now."

Anwen smiled, fluffing her hair. "I hope you two haven't been waiting long? Though I wouldn't say I'm that different looking. Just a color change."

Pelora shook her head. "We haven't waited for much long, I believe. But I dare to say a color change suits you. You look more lively now."

Anwen chuckled. "Well, I'm happy you like it."

"I should probably avoid a mud bath today…" Artin muttered.

"Will it be the four of you, then?" said Falcon. "Welcome to Tawny's. Ten gold pieces apiece to enter the glade."

"Here you are, ma'am," said Artin, producing ten coins and placing them on the counter.

Anwen counted out twenty coins, ushering Sora to her side. "Here," she said, passing them over quickly.

Pelora looked to Anwen, worried. "I can't go. I have just eight gold coins. Should I sit this one out?"

Anwen shook her head and passed Pelora two gold pieces. "Here. But please… try and be a little more careful with what you have."

"Does this mean I'm in your debt now? Should I pay off with a favor or something else?"

Anwen shook her head again, smirking and placing a hand on Pelora's shoulder. "No, no. You don't owe me anything. Just… try and be a little more frugal in the future. You know?"

Pelora nodded. "Sorry. I never needed any money before, so I don't really know how to be frugal with them." She approached the counter. "Here's ten gold coins!" she said happily.

Placing the forty gold pieces in the till, Falcon led them to the large wooden door. "Within the glade, all must feel they are in a safe place," she said. "So please leave all your armor and weapons behind in the entrance hall."

"It is advised to leave all clothing and possessions in the entrance hall," Flower added, "and emerge into the glade sky-clad, as nature made you."

"Well, okay then," Anwen said quietly.

"As nature made you," Pelora repeated happily.

The pair of them stripped off their armor and garments, setting their weapons aside atop them, and emerged into the glade. Within, it scarcely seemed they were indoors, as the bulk of the building was taken up by an immense forest clearing, filled with trees that extended from the earthy floor to the ceiling of luminous moss. Pools of steaming water and healing mud were dotted all over, along with little dancing lights. The room's only visible occupant was a tall, pale human man, wearing only a towel and standing by a massage table made of wood and moss. He bowed his head to Anwen and Pelora as they approached.

Anwen whistled at the glade's vastness. "Wow," she remarked. "Yeah, I need this." She nodded to Pelora. "Shall we?"

Sora entered the glade next, swiftly making her way for one of the small hot springs and sliding into it, hiding herself beneath the steam and bubbles.

As Artin undressed, she spoke to Falcon. "Could I have a receipt of my purchase, please? A girl's got to keep track of her money." She grinned as she set her clothes aside. "Oh, wait—I just got this." She gestured at her fresh, swollen piercing. "I don't suppose you have any healing salves to help it along so that I may more fully enjoy my stay?"

Falcon nodded to Flower, who began writing up a receipt. Gesturing to her piercing, Falcon simply said, "The glade will provide."

The moment Artin entered the glade, her piercing healed fully. The tall man quietly beckoned Anwen to the massage table. After a brief glance to the others, Anwen approached him. "So… how does this go?" she asked, rubbing the back of her neck.

The man bowed his head. "Welcome. I am Savalas. If you seek a massage, simply get onto the table facedown with your face in the cradle here, and let me know where you would like me to begin."

"Uh… okay," Anwen said, awkwardly clambering onto the table. "Please be gentle. I'm not used to… well, anyone touching me. I mean, massaging me! Just… do your job."

Pelora stood in the middle of the glade, confused and lost. "Anwen, what am I gonna do?"

Artin eased into the hot spring, wincing at the heat. "Oh—oh—ahhhh," she said, settling in near Sora. "Hey, girlie. How goes watching the half-elf?"

Sora winced. "Easy. I was just gonna… you know." She glanced at Anwen, then to Pelora. "Hey, why don't you come join us in the spring?"

"Be calm," Savalas said to Anwen. "I'm going to start with your shoulders and simply massage the tension out of your muscles." He began to do so.

Pelora joined Sora and Artin in the spring. "What happens now?" she asked. "You just do everything here?"

"Yeah," Sora said anxiously. "We just sit in the hot water and just… talk. While it… something… with our skin and muscles and… hell, I don't know. I've never done anything that costs ten crowns, for…" Mumbling something under her breath, she turned to face Anwen on the massage table. "Hey, uh… hey, Anwen?"

"Oho yeah, that's amazing," Anwen gasped as the tall man massaged her shoulders. "Yeah, what's—oo!—up, kid?"

"How… aware… are you, of the job I've been doing for Semaj?"

"What?" said Anwen, her head shooting upward rapidly. "Ahhh!" Instantly, she fell flat back into the cradle. "What job?"

Sora took a deep breath. "Okay, look… we're both… we're, like, friends… so you should know… I mean, the reason I've been following you around since yesterday…" She took another deep breath and, as fast as she could, proceeded: "Semaj pays me one crown a day to monitor your actions and report back to him." She ducked down defensively, only her eyes above the surface of the water.

Anwen stiffened, her fingers clenching, before she let out a breath. "Fine," she said.

Sora lifted her head, and uncertainly, turned back to Artin and Pelora. "Well, that went well," she said softly. "I thought it might help to tell her while she's on the table, but that went better than I could have possibly imagined."

"Yup, time to relax," Artin sighed. "Maybe that hunky masseur can rub some of that stress out of her."

"You're not off the hook yet, kid!" Anwen called. "But we'll talk about that later."

"Meep," Sora squeaked.

"Don't worry, Sora," said Pelora. "Anwen really cares about you and she has some trust issues. But it will be okay, I believe."

"That's right, just let his hands work their magic, Anwen," said Artin, sinking deeper into the water. "You know, most of these springs have minerals that help your skin glow."

"Minerals," Sora said dully. "That's freakin' great."

"Hey," said a voice. "Any chance y'all are Whirlwind?"

The three of them in the spring looked up, to see a man had entered the glade, completely covered in a thick black cloak and hood.

Pelora flinched away. "I don't know who you are, but clothes are not allowed inside the glade and I won't answer your question otherwise."

"Who's asking, stranger?" said Artin, opening one eye. "My friend makes a good point. Follow the rules, and then we will talk."

"Name's Poedom," he said. "You have an… effective hype machine. Some rich man spreading your description all about the city. Wasn't hard to gather that you'd come this way."

Falcon rushed in from the reception room. "Sir! While we don't frown upon modesty and discretion, I doubt you'll get much benefit from the spa if you wear that cloak."

He sighed. "Fine, then." He removed his cloak and tossed it at Falcon, revealing a black-furred wererat dressed in a fine tunic with a sword at his hip.

"You won't get much benefit from the springs with a blade strapped to your waist and a shirt on your back," Artin said dryly.

"Explain your business here, then," said Pelora, crossing her arms in defiance.

"I'm told you may have information," he said, making no movement to remove his tunic or sword. "The whereabouts of a pair of ladies of the evening by the names of Gliss and Runez. I'm… concerned about them."

"Savalas, stop," Anwen whispered, lifting her head to listen better.

"Never heard of them in my life," said Pelora, turning her back to him.

"Who are these ladies to you?" Artin asked, leaning against the side of the pool.

Poedom stalked forward, hand on the hilt of his sword. "See, I think maybe you have," he said to Pelora. "I think maybe you're the cleric who took them in. I was going to give you a chance to surrender them—after all, we know exactly where you live and where you're keeping them. But if you don't… the Filth Fever gang can't guarantee that no harm will befall your temple and those who reside there."

"Filth Fever," Pelora sneered. "Such a fitting name for your little criminal gang. You really think clerics are completely defenseless, then you're a fool of one filthy rat."

By this point, Anwen had gotten to her feet and was creeping toward the wererat. Artin burst out of the pool and punched at Poedom's diaphragm. Anwen made an attempt to strike him in the side of the head, but he dodged both blows.

From within the hot spring, Pelora shot a beam of light at Poedom, nicking the side of his face. Snarling, he slashed at Artin with his sword.

"ENOUGH!" bellowed a deep voice. A woman stepped out of the glade, naked and wielding a crooked staff. She appeared human, but was covered in the soft feathers of an owl. "No fighting in the glade," she said firmly, her voice deep and somewhat garbled—she was deaf. "I'm going to have to eject you all." Magical energy surged around her body.

"Madame!" Artin exclaimed. "We are sorry for infringing on your space. My associate was threatened by this man, and we were only defending her from the threat he posed."

Anwen nodded. "We will leave the premises if you wish, ma'am."

"I do wish," the woman said darkly. "Your reasons mean nothing. Violence of any kind is not permitted in my glade. Falcon, Savalas, escort out those who will comply. I'll take care of the rest."

Artin sighed dejectedly, but bowed. "I am deeply sorry to have offended you and your establishment. I can only hope that our apologies and quick departure will help to brighten your opinions of our patronage."

Poedom was the first to leave, snatching his cloak from Falcon's hands and disappearing into the entrance hall. Anwen, Pelora, and Artin followed him; when they arrived in the entrance, he was already gone.

Pelora sighed as they collected their clothes. "Anwen, I'm sorry this was to waste. That rat ruined everything…"

"He's probably waiting for us, or at least Pilora, outside," said Artin. "We need to be ready in case he tries to ambush us."

"It's Pelora," Pelora said contemptuously. "I get your name at least right, Artin."

"What did I say?" Artin said blankly.

Her armor strapped on, Anwen hefted her weapons. "Yeah, sure, Pelora. This really isn't the time—We need to go."

As they headed for the front door, Flower waved to them. "Come back soon!" she said. "Don't worry about your confrontation… Tawny is very forgiving."

"Yeah, yeah, thanks, bye!" Anwen said dismissively.

"I don't know what she means," Artin muttered to herself. "Oh, I am so glad to hear that. Thank you so much, Flower. This will not happen again. Did you see where the wererat went?"

"…Outside?" Flower offered lamely.

"Oh, okay," said Artin. "Thank you, still."

The three of them left the building, back out into the rain, where Poedom waited for them, his sword at the ready.

"Three on one, that was reeeeeal honorable, heroes," he said dryly. "Can't imagine you rookies will do much better with your clothes on, though."

"You filthy rat!" Pelora hissed. "You owe me ten gold coins for that, you fiend!" Anwen rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, 'cause that's gonna happen," Poedom sneered. "Look, cleric, just tell me where Gliss went. I know Runez is with you at your temple, and the gang will have her for refusing our guys. If not, we'll go back to my guy's original plan and just go after _you_."

"Who are you?" Artin growled. "Why are you looking for us, and why are you asking about those girls?"

Pelora scoffed. "Oh, a girl refuse to have intercourse with any of you guys, which I hardly blame her, and you were trying to force it. I should've just killed those rats for that. Oh, for the record: how do you know we clerics are so defenseless and weak? You're not very smart, are you?"

Anwen gritted her teeth. "Oh, he is so gonna fucking get it."

"Auugh!" Artin roared. "Would someone please tell me what's going on? You!" She pointed at Poedom with her hammer. "Who are you and why have you threatened my compatriot?"

"Artin, it doesn't matter," Anwen commanded. "He's threatening people and we can't let him!"

Poedom laughed, nodding to Pelora. "Oh, sure, your gods grant you power to fuel your little spells. I assure you, it doesn't compare to the fighting skills one gets by spending a lifetime bumming around in a bad neighborhood." He looked to Artin. "Full disclosure, eh? A'ight. As I said before, my name is Poedom. I'm with the Filth Fever. Gliss and Runez owe two of my men certain favors, especially after your cleric friend scarred one of them across the face. They want vengeance against the cleric, but I persuaded them to take the easy route and just go after the ladies."

Anwen threw a punch, which he sidestepped.

"Ah, I see," said Artin. "You didn't honor a business's right to refuse service. Okay."

She slammed her hammer into his foot, and he bellowed "AUGH!"

Anwen slashed at him with her axe, bloodying him severely, while Pelora raised a hand and enveloped him in white fire. Bending down on one knee, he struck Artin with his sword.

Artin thrust her hammer into his ribcage, and a light beam from Pelora went straight through his head and he fell to the ground, sizzling.

Sora emerged from Tawny's, still in the process of putting her clothes back on. "Whoa, that's one dead-lookin' wererat," she said casually. "Well, glad that's over."

Pelora straightened her back, looking somewhat sick. "I didn't had a choice," she said. "If I let him live, then he would cause more harm than good. Perhaps even to murder. I know the price to let a dangerous criminal to live."

"That was… more…" Artin searched for words. "I would not have expected that of you."

Anwen put a hand on Pelora's shoulder. "You did the right thing. It's never going to be easy and it shouldn't, but you needed to."

"Well, dang," Artin said dully. "I chose the first two spots, who else wants a go on our day out?"

"No," said Pelora. "I have to return to the temple to make sure everyone is safe. After that, I must find Semaj and give him a good lesson in being subtle."

Sora chuckled weakly, eyeing Anwen nervously.

"Temple it is," said Artin. "It's been long enough since I've been in one, that's for certain."

"Yeah," said Anwen. "I've been there more times in the past two days than I have in my entire life." As they walked north, Anwen turned her attention to Sora. "Okay, kid, listen—does your mom know about your job with Semaj?"

"Er… no?" Sora said meekly. "I mean… I can pretty much go wherever I like anyway. I think she has a pretty good idea that I follow you around, but I don't think we ever discussed, like… the reason…"

"Well then, you are going to tell her once we get back," Anwen commanded, "and that the money he's giving you will go to her. Got it? You're going to give your money to the responsible adults. That's what it takes to have a job. Not to mention if you're going to continue putting yourself in dangerous shit you better let her know why you're doing something stupid."

Sora's lip thinned, but finally she sighed. "Fine. To the responsible adults." She pulled out her two gold pieces, toying with them. "This is more money than my family's ever seen all at once. But you wouldn't know that, would you? If you want two gold pieces, you can just find it in the gullet of some sewer monster, I'm sure."

Anwen's eyes widened, and she stopped walking, turning to face Sora with her arms folded. "What are you talking about?"

"It's an adventurer joke," Sora muttered awkwardly. "I thought you'd get it…"

"So money matters that much for people like you?" Pelora inquired. "I never understood on money, since we in the temple doesn't need them. We grow our own vegetables and fetch water from the wells."

"Money makes the world go 'round!" Artin declared. "Not all of us have the fortune to have our way paved with tithes and piety, Penlore."

"Pelora," Anwen corrected. "And yeah… she's right on the dot."

"Can I ask something to you all?" said Pelora. "Do you view me as spoiled? It's the impression I get."

Anwen bit her lip and rubbed the back of her head. "Uh, well… yeah."

"And naïve!" Artin said brightly. "Well, at least until you murdered that guy… geesh… maybe over-reactive as well, all things considered."

Sora shrugged. "That was my impression, but what do I know? I got all jealous when you had eight gold… wasn't even enough…"

Pelora stared. "Believe what you want, you have at least the freedom to roam wherever you want to go." She brushed past the others and led the way toward the temple. "How ridiculous…" she muttered.

~0~0~0~

They walked around the circus tent in the center of the mercantile park. Artin's pace slowed as they passed by the wagons gathered in the tent's rear.

"I love my life there," she said sadly.

"You think you want to do this?" Anwen asked her.

"Being a showgirl, it's wonderful," Artin said wistfully. "I get money, attention, countless lovers. It's all I ever thought I wanted, but all the years I've spent giving it my all has only made me realize that it's just not enough to be a passing fancy. I need more, and I don't think I'll find what I truly want in those beautiful striped tents for much longer."

Nyarth was sitting out in the open, tuning Sweet's ukulele. At the sound of Artin's approaching voice, he looked up and grinned. "Guys, she's here!" he called. Instantly, he stood up on the edge of a wagon, playing the ukulele and singing:

" _You know him by his red hood, so beloved by all  
_ _Captain of every ship, belle of every ball  
_ _And he ain't nobody's fool  
_ _Let's sing the tale of the bard, the tale of Abdul  
_ _The tale of Abdul  
_ _The tale of Abdul  
_ _Let's sing the tale of the bard, the tale of Abdul"_

Alec burst out of the tent, beating a bass drum, followed shortly by Hak-Tonog blowing a magic horn. Once the three of them played together for several bars, Alec joined Nyarth in repeating the last line of the chorus: " _Let's sing the tale of the bard, the tale of Abdul._ " Then, Alec stepped forward, rapping in time to his own drum beats:

" _Stealing hearts, finding treasure,  
_ _Gifts of diamonds, gifts of pleasure,  
_ _Wild card, gold-laden,  
_ _Sailing seas and saving maidens!  
_ _Bursting forth with fireballs  
_ _Before stripping off the shawls—"_

Nyarth jumped off the wagon into the dirt, rolling once before singing along with Alec:

" _Long ago his tale was unfurled  
_ _Great musician exploring the whole world  
_ _Takes his women covered with bees  
_ _Lives on in our memories."_

Artin smiled broadly and dashed over to them, dancing in a circle around Nyarth and singing along with him:

" _You know him by his red hood, so beloved by all  
_ _Captain of every ship, belle of every ball  
_ _And he ain't nobody's fool  
_ _Let's sing the tale of the bard, the tale of Abdul  
_ _The tale of Abdul  
_ _The tale of Abdul  
_ _Let's sing the tale of the bard, the tale of Abdul"_

When the song came to a close, Nyarth wiped the sweat from his brow. "So… yeah, there's that. You, uh… you see what I did there?"

"You weren't exactly subtle about it," Anwen interjected.

"We're circus people," Hak-Tonog said dryly. "Subtlety doesn't play to the cheap seats."

Nyarth turned the ukulele over in his hands. "Sweet was right about one thing… no one remembers the kind of bard he was. The kind of bard who goes out and uses their magic to break down dungeon walls and trick monsters, that's… the kind of bard that other bards sing about. Not that you're a bard, it's just… you know."

"Yes, I do, dear," said Artin. "It means more to me than you know."

She turned to Alec and Hak-Tonog. "I'm desperate for you to know how this is. I left the mountains without looking back, because I knew something—someone—was waiting for me. I'm no longer that young girl searching for the stars, I am the woman that you both helped me become." She took their hands in hers. "And now I feel a pull down a different path, and it tears my heart out to part ways with you, for how could it stay with me when it was always here with you?"

Alec knelt down and kissed her forehead. "We've always known, I think. It's just the way you are—ever wild and free. We knew the adulation of the crowds couldn't please you forever. The time has come for you to get it from the whole world."

Artin hugged him tightly and gave him a deep kiss. "Thank you for your understanding, my love." She snuggled up to him before turning to Hak-Tonog, gazing up at him. "Your arms have been my home for the past two decades. Will you be able to forgive me if I am no longer there to fill them?"

Hak-Tonog put a loving arm around Alec. "Ah, we'll be fine. You know that."

"We want you to be happy, our beloved Artin," Alec added grandly.

Artin bit her lip and nodded, doing her best to hug them both at once. "Look, the circus isn't leaving for a few more days. I'm obligated to spend the day with them"—she tilted her head toward her companions—"and then I have a date with a hunky stable hand, but then I can come by after. If you'd like, I'll bring my date with me, too."

They glanced at each other, nodding in agreement, and then back down to her. "In all honesty, I think we'd prefer if this evening was just… the three of us," Alec admitted.

Artin smiled and squeezed them tighter. "I'd prefer to do that too, my loves."

Anwen shifted awkwardly before blurting out, "You lovebirds should go at it!"

"Oh, we will, dear, don't you worry," said Artin.

"Relationship goals," Nyarth sang, playing a note on the ukulele with every syllable.

"All right, loves," said Artin, giving tender kisses to both Alec and Hak-Tonog. "I've got obligations for now, but I can't wait to spend time with you tonight!" She smiled and rejoined the three half-elves.

"So… yeah," said Anwen. "Uh, nice to know where you, er, stand and all with this."

As they returned on their trek to the north gate, Sora glanced over her shoulder.

Anwen raised an eyebrow. "Whatcha looking at, kid?"

Sora blushed. "I love a guy with a guitar. He's… close enough."

"The kid with the ukulele? Hmm."

"He likes fresh fruit," Artin offered casually.

Sora lit up, and she nodded vigorously.

~0~0~0~

They returned to the temple of Pelor, where Verthandi and Runez were in the chapel. Verthandi had lifted her shirt, displaying several lines of script tattooed in gold below her left breast. "And these are the main commandments of Pelor," she was explaining.

Runez took a moment to read the writing, then nodded. "That's some really nice ink. I always thought I should get some more tattoos, but Gliss advised against it. Said I should keep myself, you know… perfectly preserved, as much as I can."

"Oh, I disagree," said Verthandi. "Men _love_ a woman with tattoos. In your line of work, it'd be a great investment. A bit more ink would pay for itself like _that_." She snapped her fingers.

Pelora stepped further into the chapel, breathing a sigh of relief. "Oh, I'm so glad you're okay," she said. "I came to confirm that neither anyone or the temple were harmed."

Verthandi looked up sharply, scanning the four of them. "Everything's fine here. What's up?"

"Something bad, I'm afraid," said Pelora. "The very reason why Runez is here, is because of the gang called Filth Fever is searching for her and her friend Gliss. One of them ambushed me inside a spa place, but I realized the dangerous consequences if I let him live and… well, I have taken a life, Verthandi." She hung her head. "I know I promises to never take a life, but if I didn't, Runez and Gliss would face those horrors."

Verthandi put a comforting hand on Pelora's shoulder. "Hey… let me let you in on a little secret? The whole thing about never taking a life? That was never a cleric thing, that was just a _you_ thing. I'm… sorry you weren't able to keep your promise. But such is the world we live in. I trust you, so I'm sure you did the right thing."

Runez, though, looked terrified. "I… they know I'm here."

"It's all right," said Verthandi. "A lot of people don't know this, but… clerics can fuck shit up. Protecting people is what we do. And temples are made to be defensible. You're safe here."

"Okay," said Runez, not entirely convinced. "Um… Pelora, I think I might have a lead on where Gliss went."

"Really?" said Pelora. "Please tell me what you know, I need to find her as fast as possible now."

Anwen smiled at Pelora, putting a hand on her other shoulder. "Don't worry, we won't let them hurt you or Gliss."

Artin, meanwhile, was admiring the beauty of the chapel.

"I've heard temple visitors talking about some tavern in the slums district," said Runez. "The Copper… something. No one seems to know the name of the place, but apparently there are hookers there. If Gliss didn't feel safe in the lake district anymore, she may have tried to get a position there."

"Then we need to find her fast," said Pelora. "Verthandi, can you hold the fort, so to say? In case the enemy would attack, which I certainly do not hope."

Verthandi bit her lip. "I'll do my best. I wish I knew where the heck Jepser is… but Oblio and I can take care of the place. Don't worry, no gang is going to openly attack a temple, and the place is well-fortified against anyone trying to be sneaky. You go and find Gliss."

~0~0~0~

As they entered the slums, Anwen bit her lip nervously. "Uh, Pelora… I'm gonna have to be honest and say that I don't really know much about this tavern that we think… she's there…"

They came upon a bulky street-sweeper with frizzy hair and tattered clothing, accompanied by Jaramie, the young man whose grandmother had given Pelora the pink pearl.

Anwen instantly approached the street-sweeper. "Sir, do you know where the nearest tavern is?" she asked. "Like, one with hookers, and… you know." She blushed.

The man blinked at her. "Er… you mean the Copper… something? Say, aren't you Anwen Ma'Sijor? Well, I'd think of all people you'd know—the place is at the north end of the very neighborhood you've been watching over all this time."

"Fallen on hard times?" Jaramie said sympathetically. "I hear that."

Anwen glared at him before shaking her head. "Yeah, okay, thanks. C'mon, let's go."

"Girl's just curious," Artin supplied, winking to the two men as they proceeded.

~0~0~0~

They found the tavern, a two-story building right up against the city's northern wall. The sign out front identified the tavern as "The Copper Something".

Pelora stared. "They can't be serious."

"Well, clearly shows their creativity," Anwen said flatly. "Now let's try and find… you know."

They entered the tavern; a single spacious room filled with hazy smoke, lit by torches despite the daylight outside. The décor was stony and haphazard.

The bartender, a man with greasy black hair, leaned forward eagerly at the sight of Anwen. "Miss Ma'Sijor!" he declared in a deep, growly voice. "After all these years, the teenage savior of the slums graces us with her presence. What brings you to my humble establishment, madam?"

"Huh," Artin remarked. "I've never been in a cathouse before. I wonder…"

Anwen's expression remained blank as she stalked over to the bartender. "I'm looking for a woman. Know one by the name of Gliss?"

"Gliss?" said the bartender, flicking his tongue. "The name is not familiar to me. Unless… yessss, I believe the woman you're after came by here just yesterday. She was asking me for a position, but regrettably, I had to turn her away. She was just a bit… skanky for the standards we set around here. My courtesans exemplify the virtues of purity and always greet the guests with a ssssmile." He bowed his head, one hand folded over the other in a mantis-like stance. "Would any of you ladies care to sssample our back room services, hrrrmmm? We offer a wide variety of courtesans for all preferences and orientations." He bared his teeth in a charmless smile.

"Do you know where she might've gone to?" Anwen asked.

"I'm afraid not," said the bartender. "As it is, she was far too weathered and beaten for me to even consider hiring her on, and I told her as much. I daresay she was a bit… dejected."

Artin turned her back to the bartender, adjusting her breasts and hair, before carefully listening for an opening.

"Do you know where to find her?" Pelora interjected. "It's very important."

"I do not, but… feel free to ask around. My patrons… know things."

"Ugh! We don't have time for this!" Anwen groaned. "But we don't have a choice, do we?"

"Huh?" Artin said absently. "Yeah, choices. What did you say your name is, sir?"

"Focus, Artin," Anwen snapped.

"I… don't believe I gave it," he mumbled, scanning them carefully. "Wysst… is my name. My name is Wysst. I operate this establishment. I'm… rather proud of what I accomplished, given the… locale."

Pelora nodded to Anwen. "We must split up and ask around. Someone has to have any idea where she is."

"Good idea, Pelly," said Anwen. "We'll meet back here with Wysst when or if we found something. Don't hold back, but… scream if you're in trouble."

"Mister Wysst, what sort of deal do you have for your folks?" Artin inquired. "What kind of pay and benefits do you give them?"

"Only the best," Wysst said proudly. "The finest pay, room and board, free meals, and access to only the finest… entertainment. Isn't that right, Bouncer?"

The burly man guarding the door at the back of the room nodded slowly.

"And they come and go as they please, take only the clients they choose?" Artin pressed.

"But of course," Wysst said sincerely.

"You looking for more girls, Mister Wysst?"

"Always," he said, the corners of his mouth twitching. "Hrmmm. You and your friends would be a welcome addition. Are you… asssking for a position?"

Anwen grabbed Artin and Sora and pulled them away. "You're staying with me," she ordered Sora. "And _you_ are going to do your job," she said to Artin in annoyance.

"A person can have more than one job!" Artin retorted.

"Right now our job is to find a person, you talk to him later!"

Pelora turned to a young boy with shockingly blond hair, who stood behind the bar alongside Wysst. "Excuse me," she said with a friendly smile, "I'm looking for someone. Have you seen a woman coming in here and asking for a job, but were rejected by the owner?"

"Yeah, I was here when Uncle Wysst turned her down," said the boy. "I don't know where she went, I'm sorry. Just… out that door."

Pelora looked back at Wysst. "Are you sure you don't know where Gliss went?"

"Absolutely sure," he said. "She simply… left."

"Mister Wysst, would you mind if we spoke to a few of your girls?" Artin interjected.

"By all means," said Wysst. "I can tell Bouncer to let you into the back rooms. But… they were back there. They don't know where your Gliss is either."

"Thank you, Mister Wysst," said Artin. "We may take you up on that in a moment. It's good to have the option. Could I get five cold beers please?"

Wysst snapped his fingers, and the young boy poured out five mugs of ale from a keg.

"Thank you very muchly," said Artin.

Anwen strode over to a group of heavily armored individuals sitting at a table together; a heavily-scarred orc man, a human woman with pink hair and spiky armor, and a beefy, balding older man. Anwen took the fourth seat at their table. "Okay, I'm just gonna make this quick," she said. "Do you know of a woman named Gliss? Or at least heard where she was going?"

The three of them stared at her savagely for a moment, before finally the woman spoke. "Wysst turned her down. I suspect she's been wandering around the slums trying to pick up clients." She laughed cruelly.

Artin brought four of the beers she had purchased to a stage on the other end of the tavern, where a skinny teenage girl was dancing and playing a tambourine while three nondescript musicians backed her up on their own instruments.

"Lovely music and dance deserves a cold drink," Artin said sweetly. "Also, have you folks seen a gal of auburn hair, dressed in red?"

The dancing girl struck like a snake, snatching one of the beers and beginning to chug it immediately. The musicians stopped playing, and the lute player turned to face Artin, nodding graciously. "Oh, everybody saw her. She asked Wysst for a job, said she had a strong résumé working the docks… not sure what an accomplishment that is, I mean, the docks are on Lake Euvara. Not a very big lake. I can't imagine the sailors are terribly excited to see her. When Wysst told her why he couldn't take her on, she… she ran out. I think she was crying. But I don't think you'll find her by asking around here. Nobody saw where she went. You may want to search the neighborhood."

Overhearing this, Anwen stormed out of the bar, pulling Sora along.

The four of them departed the tavern, and as they excited, they crossed paths with Nyima, the medusa. They froze in shock, as did she. Nyima recovered first, lowering her sunglasses only momentarily to reveal her snaky yellow eyes. "Watch yourselves," she said politely, before brushing past them and entering the Copper Something, leaving them in the rain-soaked streets of the slums.

"Who the hell was that?" Artin asked.

"Um, someone we encountered and accidentally angered," Pelora said nervously. "We better leave now."

They took a few steps away from the tavern, and Anwen ushered them all together. "Okay, so if we're going to find Gliss we're gonna need to split up," she said. "Sora's staying with me, but I think since people are trying to kill Gliss, I think you two are going to need to stay together."

Artin sneered a bit as she glanced up at Pelora. "I mean, I guess we will cover more ground that way. It's not like we have any clues where the lass might be, anyway…"

As Artin and Pelora wandered off together, Sora stood by Anwen's side and gazed off in the direction of the tavern they had just left. "You know… I've never noticed the Copper Something. Has it always just been… there? Kind of an upscale place for this neighborhood."

"Hell if I know," Anwen said tiredly. "Whatever the case is, it sure felt like a waste of time." Her eyes widened. "Your mom's gonna kill me if she finds out you went in there."

"What Mom doesn't know won't kill her," Sora said absently. "You know… I bet there'd be some pretty good money in being one of the back room girls there."

"You are _not_ going back in there!" Anwen said, appalled. "And we are on a mission, so please, focus." She dragged Sora away from the tavern.

Sora didn't resist, allowing her feet to drag across the cobblestones, but glared up at Anwen. "You know, it's easy for you to say where I'm going. You're a big strong adventurer now. Everybody knows adventurers spend gold like normal people spend copper." She held up her two gold coins once again. "Remember yesterday? When your warlock friend handed you fifty of these like it was nothing? Is it so wrong that I want a taste of that? That I'll do whatever it takes?"

Anwen didn't answer for a moment. "I'm not… trying to spend it as soon as I get it." She shook her head. "We're not having this conversation right now."

"Sorry," Sora said coldly, swatting at the money bag hanging from Anwen's belt. "I just… I do resent this a little bit. Where you've suddenly found yourself. A guy offers me a crown a day to tell him what you do every day, yeah, I'm gonna fuckin' take it, but you're getting so much more…"

Anwen turned to face her. "I get it, I just… I don't want you to get hurt. You weren't trained for any of this, and…" She laughed. "Obviously Semaj isn't paying you enough, if you get into harm's way. The bastard. Look, there's a lot going down and arguing about money isn't what we should be doing. I'm doing this not because of what I can gain, I just want to help people."

"I…" Sora flexed her hands, and sighed, averting her eyes. "Look, I get that. I admire that and… I want to help people too. I just… don't see how I can do that without helping myself first."

Sora looked back up at Anwen. "My dad makes five commons a tenday," she said, producing a featureless copper coin. "He's a smart guy—not as smart as he acts, but smart enough to fake it, smart enough to teach me my letters and numbers. So… I know a hundred commons makes a crown. I know I'm making good money for my family. Now that I finally have the income to survive, I just… want to know what to do next." She looked away, embarrassed. "I'm not just following you because I'm being paid for it, y'know?"

Anwen smiled and ruffled Sora's hair. "Yeah, I get. I've had to deal with that my whole life. I survive thanks to those small bits of generosity. I hate to be a braggart… I mean… you know?" She offered Sora her hand. "You want to be a hero, kid?"

Sora chuckled. "I'm not like you. But I want to be… more than just another forgotten pauper."

"Heh, as if you could be forgettable."

"Meh, you're too kind."

As they continued through the rainy streets, going nowhere in particular, Sora hesitated before speaking again. "Did you ever… I mean… all your years here on the streets of the slums, did you ever consider turning to… the line of work of the person we're looking for? 'Cause you'd be a pretty good one, if you don't mind me saying. You're as beautiful as a full-blooded elf, your breasts are amazing, you're… well, you're a total grouchy sourpuss, but if you could fake being nice, you might have been… a legend. The kind that people talk about all over the city."

Anwen bit her lip and blushed. "Well, I know your parents wouldn't let me around you if I… did. Besides, I wouldn't know how to start if I wanted to."

"You'd be like… a tourist trap," Sora mused, not really listening. "Hehehehehehe…"

As they neared the edge of the neighborhood, Jaramie approached. "Hey," he said, inclining his head at Anwen. "Nice day to… to get clean, innit?" He spread his arms and looked up, letting the rain soak his face. "I was just… I mean, is there any way I can help you find what you're looking for?"

"Not unless you know where a woman who looks distressed and upset went running off to," Anwen said flatly.

Jaramie deflated. "Sounds like a lot of people."

~0~0~0~

"So…" Artin said awkwardly. "Uh, I guess out of all of us, you know her the best? So like, where do you think she might be?"

Pelora shook her head. "No, I don't know her that much, to be honest. She was very displeased with me last time and maybe it's justified, because I let the criminal live rather than putting an end on him. Then perhaps this mess wouldn't happened."

"This is all very odd to me," Artin confessed. "Don't get me wrong, it's not acceptable to force someone to have sex with or without money being exchanged, but it's a very morally gray area that…" She paused, searching for words. "He's dead now. Wouldn't have thoroughly maiming him sufficed?"

"I'm not sure it's the same wererat," said Pelora. "But either way, he got away from the beginning." She crossed her arms, thinking hard.

"I don't think you should have killed him," Artin said bluntly. "You know this town better than I do—where next?"

Before Pelora could answer, a slender figure entered the neighborhood from the south. At the sight of them, he hastily scurried toward them. "Excuse me, could you—oh. It's you." The man was Alduin Fivetails, and he sneered once he got a clear view of Pelora's face. "Well, regardless, I'm looking for an establishment called the Copper Something. But surely that's not in this neighborhood, is it?"

"Why do you wonder?" Pelora asked scathingly.

"Why, because it's a business, and I'm a businessman, and I have _business_ there," he said through a thin smile. "Am I in the right part of town or not, priestess?"

Pelora glared at him. "You're in the right area. But you never heard it from me. Good day."

"Thank you. That wasn't so bloody hard, was it?" He continued to follow the directions on the slip of parchment he was carrying, vanishing into the streets.

"You sure do know how to make friends…" Artin observed wryly.

Pelora glanced over her shoulder. "Such disgusting man… I know exactly what he'll do at that place and it disgusts me. Beats his poor horse to exhaustion and then spending his gold on less decent affairs. Business only, that makes me laugh." She continued on her way, beckoning Artin along with her. "I have only known this town for two, three days, for your information."

~0~0~0~

Several hours later, a bit past noon, the four of them met again in the courtyard outside of Anwen's apartment. As the rainfall began to increase, Anwen looked hopefully at Pelora, who shook her head.

"Oh, damn me!" Anwen snarled. "We're never going to find her!" She punched a wall in anger. "For all we know they got Gliss! Damn it, damn it, damn it!"

Pelora sighed, staring at the ground. "I should've just killed that wererat after all… I just thought I could solve that without getting blood on my hands."

Atasha emerged from her home, a windowless brick of a house smeared with garish pink paint. "Hey, losers!" she called out.

Pelora winced, and turned pointedly to Artin. "Now, Artin, have you always been with the circus or did you come from far away from here?"

Anwen pinched her brow, and approached Atasha. "Oh, hey, Atasha. What's got you goin'?"

"Heard you're looking for Gliss," said Atasha. "What's the matter with you? Spreading her name and description all over town? The Filth Fever are after her, you twits. Are you _trying_ to let them know which district she's in?"

"What is it to you, then?" Pelora shouted. "You don't help anyone unless it's for filthy money and you're so selfish that not even the darkest of gods would take pity on! So mind your own business and leave!"

"Son of a bitch, she's right," Anwen mumbled. "By the gods I'm an idiot—Pelora, stop." She faced Atasha beseechingly. "Do you know where she might be? Please. She's in danger, and even more so thanks to my stupidity."

"She's at my house," Atasha said bluntly. "I took her in because she looked upset and lost." She glared hatefully at Pelora. "Stick that in your pipe and smoke it, you _chubby fucking bitch_."

Pelora stared blankly. "I'm… not going to lie about that doesn't hurt. And I do know I have been very unfair towards you. But if you were a lot nicer than you act, then perhaps I wouldn't say things like that." She turned away. "You can take care of this, I'm done about this. Nothing but misery and grief has happened since I went out for the first time in years."

Anwen pounced on Atasha, hugging her. "Oh my gosh! Thank you! Thank you so much!"

"Get off," Atasha snarled, shoving her away. "Come on, Rhea's taking care of her. You got a safe place for her?"

"Well, we were thinking about bringing her to the temple," said Anwen. "But does she…? We should probably talk to her."

"Well, thank you for taking her in anyway, Miss Sourpuss," Artin supplied. "As for a safe place, it would probably be best if the gal herself is asked where she'd like to go, instead of herding her around like a child."

"Well, she'll be glad to know she has options," said Atasha. She led the way, glancing sidelong at Anwen. "Nice dyejob. You get that from Random?"

Pelora hung back, not following along. Artin took notice.

"You want to quit helping folks because someone doesn't like your body?" said Artin. "That's pretty dumb, if you ask me. Who cares what people think about your body but you?"

"You really don't listen, do you?" Pelora retorted. "In case you missed that, I was sad because I have lived a sheltered life until Semaj and the bunch of you guys came into my life, and you know what? I actually get your name right, _Artin_."

Atasha halted. "Hold that thought," she said dryly to Anwen. "Seems your team has some more drama to work through."

"Oh, yeah," Anwen noticed. "Oh… yeah…"

"So, why did you leave your cozy little temple, _Pelorna_?" said Artin, glaring. "Go back home, and I will too."

Sora brought her hand to her face. "Oh, gods, this is getting old…"

"You're so ignorant and rude," Pelora spat. "I left my 'cozy temple' because I thought I could do some good for this world. I'm sorry if I believe in what Semaj told about the world need protectors. Darkness out there isn't something to joke or lie about. See, this is why I left, to do some good, and I'm not going to let someone push me down, whether it's you or anyone else." She turned her nose up and strutted away.

"HEY!" Anwen said sharply, grabbing Pelora by the wrist. "Don't think either of you are giving up on me. This is not about either of you! Get your shit together and act like professional protectors!"

"Yes, it's very professional to stay quiet," Pelora grumbled. "I'm not leaving. I'm going away from Artin, because I think we shouldn't talk with each other until she learns to listen."

"So are we done?" Atasha called over. "If we can wrap this up before nightfall, that'd be great. I don't think my house can stand up to being besieged by the Filth Fever."

"Lords almighty, I shouldn't be babysitting a thirteen-year-old and now I have two people older than me," Anwen muttered, releasing Pelora's wrist and turning to face Atasha. "Yeah, you're right, sorry. Okay, listen, we are going to ask Gliss if she wants sanctuary at the temple with Runez. We'll tell her we can provide her protection more easily there, and we are going to be on our best behavior, got it?"

"You already know I will," said Pelora. "This is on my responsibility, after all."

"Aye-aye, captain," said Artin with a poorly-executed salute.

"All right, let's go, losers," said Atasha, strutting over to them and looking Anwen over. "If I may offer some leadership advice… I say disband the team you've got and start over with this one." She clapped her hands onto Sora's shoulders. "I picked up Rhea when she was reeeeal young, and already she does everything I say. Far more docile and manageable a teammate than these two…"

"Thanks, but I'm fine with what I have," said Anwen, pulling Sora away. "Not to mention, she only comes along based on a… misguided sense of duty."

Pelora crossed her arms contemptuously.

"Mm-hmm," said Atasha. "Well, I suppose that was a cue to ask about exactly what the relationship is, but I'm not really interested." She led the way across the square to her house. "Rhea! I got Anwen."

"You thay thomething nithe to her?" Rhea said from within.

"Yes. I complimented her hair dye."

"Anwen doethn't dye her hair."

"Does now."

Rhea appeared at the door, observing Anwen's hair, reflexively clutching at her own hair, which was also purple. "Oh. Well, how about that. Anyway, here'th the lady…"

Within the house, the auburn-haired woman was sprawled across one of the two mattresses that made up almost all of the furniture in the house's single room.

"Yeah, uh… thanks, Atasha," said Anwen, turning to Pelora. "Well?"

Pelora stepped forward. "Hello, Gliss. We have met before, and your friend. First, I want to apologize for a mistake I made, and it's mainly because of me this mishap happened. But I want to take full responsibility and I'd like to offer you sanctuary in the temple I reside. Your friend is there as well."

Gliss sat up, her puffy red eyes widening when she recognized Pelora. "It's you? You're the one looking for me? …Well, that's nice of you, but maybe you shouldn't have bothered. Been thinkin' about just lettin' the rats get me."

"No, I won't allow it," Pelora said firmly. "This is on me. I should've killed that rat as you suggested. I didn't, and now I must pay for the consequences. Besides, I killed one of theirs, so I'm technically also wanted, I suppose."

Gliss swirled her fingernail around on the mattress beside her. "So, I bunk with Runez at the temple, then what? That jerk at the Copper Something made a pretty good point. I've… been around the block too many times. There's one thing I know how to do for a living… and I've gotten too old for it."

"Maybe you'll find out something else you're good at?" Pelora suggested. "I have been told to become what I am my whole life, a cleric. I was never allowed to venture outside the temples I stayed at, or the wagon I used to travel in. And now, I'm with friends and protecting people like you. And you won't be alone, Runez is your friend and she is very worried for you."

"Honestly, I've never believed in the idea that you're 'too old' for a job," Anwen added. "In your case being too old isn't an actual excuse. It means you're experienced. You're not young and stupid, you've only gotten more experienced with age. That's intimidating. Clients and sleazeballs are probably too much of a coward to go after anyone that isn't under twenty-five."

"A better question, I think," Artin supplied, "would be do you like your job, and do you want to continue doing it?"

"Okay, _you're_ not helping," said Gliss, pointing an accusatory finger at Anwen without looking at her. "Yeah, I get it, I'm old and intimidating and no one wants me anymore. That's what I'm _saying_." To Artin, she continued, "I mean, sure, I like it. Pay's good, I enjoy what I do. But I've got to be honest, my income's been declining for months, and… I already live in the damn lake district, it's not like things were all that great. You know what, fine, I'll go to the temple. Right now all I want to think about is my own safety."

~0~0~0~

Runez was waiting for them as they entered the temple. "Gliss!" she exclaimed, rushing over to embrace her. "Thank goodness. Gosh, it seems to have taken them forever to find you."

"Well, they started at the Copper Something, and I wasn't…" Gliss hesitated, pained. "They, uh, didn't want me there. Apparently they prefer their girls to look and act pure and innocent."

"Oh," Runez said blankly. "…Well, fuck them. If they'd rather hire amateurs…"

"Exactly what I said," Anwen said softly.

"No, no, you said my experience was intimidating and that I'd never get clients again," Gliss said contemptuously. "Where we staying in this joint, Ru? I need a real bed."

"Can do," said Runez. "You and I are in a spare room just down the hall, come on…"

"Huh," said Anwen, as the two of them entered the back rooms. "I _thought_ that's what I said. …Oops."

~0~0~0~

 **DM's note:** _I didn't expect this to be the longest episode of the series so far, but it appears that's what it is._

 _We took a week off after this episode, as I was preparing for a trip to Sweden to visit Naty. And that's where I am now!_

 _Up next comes Episode 11, the final installment of what I consider to be Volume 1. See you there._


	11. Their First Dragon

**DM's Note:** _Episode 11 began in mid-January during my visit to Sweden, ending on the second of February; it ended up being a much longer episode than I had anticipated, as I had a middle and end for this episode but no beginning planned; like any good player, they chose a beginning of their own._

~0~0~0~

 **WHIRLWIND**

 **Chapter 5: The Decision  
** **Episode 11: Their First Dragon**

" _Desire is like a dragon rearing up inside you, bidding you to acts of passion. If handled correctly, a dragon can be controlled… but why in the world would you want to?"  
_ Acelia Rom, human singer, 88 years after the fall

~0~0~0~

Anwen watched Gliss and Runez disappear into the back rooms, and her face fell as she rubbed her arm. "Do you think I've been too hard on her?"

"Who?" Sora asked.

"Atasha," said Anwen. "I mean, I screwed up, I mean really screwed up, and she actually saved her."

"How could you have known she's not a complete bitch," said Artin, "when all she's ever been to you is bitchy? I wouldn't worry too much over it."

Pelora nodded slowly. "This isn't your fault, Anwen. This is entirely on me and this could've been avoided if I killed the wererats instead of trying to be benevolent and let them live."

Anwen rolled her eyes. "Look, I'm not trying to feel sorry for myself or blame myself. All I'm saying is that Atasha did something right, without demanding anything in return. While I've just been running around and calling to Gliss like a crazy person. …I think we should pay a visit to her."

"But I don't understand your motive behind this," Pelora said skeptically. "Gliss is in safety now." She furrowed her brow in thought before an idea occurred to her. "Are you in love?"

"Excuse me?" Anwen demanded, wide-eyed.

"Ohhh yes," Artin laughed. "Are you in love with that nasty woman, Anwen?" She paused for a moment. "…Are you?"

"I thought about love very recently and someone once said that it can happen anywhere," said Pelora. "Isn't it so? I don't judge, you know. Love is love."

"And sometimes it's funner when you don't particularly like them," Artin said deviously.

"I-I'm sorry, no!" Anwen stammered awkwardly. "It's just a simple matter of apologizing." She held up her hands. "Besides, if I love someone, I'd rather it be someone I already like as a person. I mean, both Atasha and Rhea are attractive physically, my history with them isn't so. Just kind of stupid to hook up with someone you hate."

Artin shrugged. "To each their own, I guess."

"One time when I met dwarves on one of the travels, they told me that love starts with hate… but I could be wrong," Pelora admitted. "I just thought maybe they weren't that far off."

"Yeah, but hating each other is also more of a time-waster than just… actually liking each other, or learning something," said Anwen. "For instance, I still hate Semaj for the whole 'killing me' incident."

"Love and hate are just two sides to the same coin," Artin said passionately. "They both cause a person to be deeply involved in the other person's life, after all."

"Yeah, whatever," Anwen said irritably as she strode out of the temple. "So, you all coming or what?"

"Yeah, sure, why not?" said Artin.

~0~0~0~

A few minutes later, they found themselves at Atasha's door, the rain now merely a light drizzle.

"How about you two knock and do the talking," said Pelora. "And I can just stay outside, look for bad guys."

Anwen raised an eyebrow. "Pelora, is something the matter?"

"Well, this is actually your business and not exactly mine," said Pelora, shifting on her feet. Turning to Artin, she asked, "Does this mean I'm an unwilling party? Or at least neutral on this?"

"Uhh, what?" Artin said blankly. "I thought we were just here to watch them hate-kiss, or whatever."

"Never mind then," Pelora mumbled.

"Fair enough, I guess," said Anwen, knocking on the door.

"Kiss, kiss, kiss," Artin chanted.

Rhea answered the door, looking surprised at the sight of Anwen. "Oh, hey. What'th up?"

Pelora laughed nervously. "Yes, Anwen wanted to speak to your friend, all is good, and this is where I leave! Bye!" She turned and swiftly walked away.

"Just came by to say hi," said Anwen, gazing after Pelora with concern. To Artin and Sora, she said, "Go talk to her."

Sora obediently skipped over to Pelora, standing some distance away. "Hey," she said bluntly. "What's your problem?"

"Absolutely nothing is my problem," Pelora growled. "I'm scouting… in case for trouble."

Sora nodded with acceptance. "Okay… trouble. Yeah. Trouble is my business." She dutifully began scanning the streets herself.

Artin blew some hair out of her eyes as she approached them. "Hey, not liking a person is acceptable behavior. And not wanting to spend time around nasty people is also perfectly reasonable."

Atasha appeared at the door behind Rhea, her eyes sparkling with interest. "Ma'Sijor on my doorstep," she said curtly. "I'm so fucking honored. What can I do you for?"

Anwen bit her lip and rubbed her arms. "Hey. Uh, listen, thanks for saving Gliss back there earlier. I didn't know or think you would…" She trailed off, and left it at that.

Atasha looked down at her own hands, seeming almost embarrassed. "Hey, you know, I… I'm an adventurer. Same as you. We help people. Maybe I do it for the glory and you do it for your own reasons, but what we're known for is the trade of helping people."

"Yeah… yeah," said Anwen, smiling somewhat and producing a small pouch of money. "Listen, I know we've had our differences and obviously I misjudged you. You were a big help in protecting her. I know it's not much but I think you deserve it like the adventurer you are."

Atasha hungrily stared at the pouch before snatching it. "So shines the fruit of a good deed! Didn't I tell you, Rhea? Karma."

Anwen sighed. "Listen, you two ever want to just hang or talk, just… you know."

"My dear Ma'Sijor, all you have to do is ask," Atasha said with a poisonous smile.

Anwen walked over to the others, who were on their knees, circled around a spot on the dusty ground. "So, found any trouble, Pelora?" she asked, looming over her.

Sora was rolling two wooden dice over and over in her hand. "All right, this one's for a new pair of shoes! In fact, any pair of shoes will do." She pondered for a moment. "I don't own any shoes." She tossed the dice to the ground. "One and a two. Well, crud."

"Yikes, kid, you gotta get a raise," said Artin, scooping up the dice and rolling them herself, producing a five and one.

"That's a good one," Pelora said brightly. "Mine turn!" She rolled the dice, getting a four and six.

Sora glared at the dice. "So, double sixes is never gonna happen, right? It's just not probabilitilly, er… we're just gonna be here forever?"

Anwen laughed. Pelora turned around and stood up. "Um, no," said Pelora. "There were no troubles so far."

"Well, that's good," said Anwen. "So… what happened back there?"

Pelora's lip thinned. "Well, I felt your talk with Atasha was entirely none of my business, and I promised not to meddle into others' business."

Anwen's eyebrow cocked again. "Pelora, I know you're not telling me something."

Pelora didn't reply, but her eyes darted to Atasha's house, and her lip curled in displeasure.

"You're upset about Atasha and didn't want to see her," Anwen realized, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I can understand that. What I want to know is what she said or did to you? Like, earlier, wasn't it?"

Pelora sighed, her shoulders drooping. "She did said some derogatory things about my weight, status as cleric and the fact I'm half-elf. I have pretended that didn't bothered me, but it did and I didn't wanted to see someone who wouldn't say sorry about that. All this trouble because I wanted to ignore someone who previously has just given us trouble and grief."

Anwen looked at the ground. "Oh, Pelly… I'm so sorry. I was so focused on finding Gliss. I'm sorry I didn't know." She sighed. "In hindsight, though, I probably should've known when you walked away for a moment." She glanced back at Atasha's home before turning to Pelora and grabbing her hand. "Listen, she was helpful to us. We don't have to like her, I still don't like her, but we probably wouldn't be able to find Gliss if it weren't for her. I'm sorry for not realizing that."

"It's all right," said Pelora. "It interfered with the mission and I should've probably kept my eyes on what's most important for now. But… thank you for your apology, it was very kind of you."

Anwen smiled. "Hey, don't worry about it. Let's just try and relax for the rest of the day." She fell down onto her back, gazing up at the rainy sky.

~0~0~0~

Some time later, Pelora was back in the temple, sweeping the chapel floor. She gazed out the window at the slowly dipping sun.

~0~0~0~

Anwen adjusted her armor and re-entered the Copper Something, finding the exact same crowd of staff, entertainment, and regulars as had been there earlier. She made her way to the bar and took a seat, scratching the back of her neck but keeping her face blank.

Wysst approached, immediately uncapping a beer bottle and passing it to her. "Ah, it is you again," he said smoothly. "How may I provide?"

Anwen took the bottle and examined it. "Just wanting to check out your girls, you know?"

"Ah, you are interested in our back room services?" said Wysst, his eyes lighting up. "By all means, I'll tell Bouncer to let you in."

Anwen nodded. She dipped her finger into the beer bottle and licked it.

Wysst led the way to the door to the back room. The burly man guarding the door nodded to him and stepped aside. Wysst led Anwen through the door, revealing a high-ceilinged corridor seemingly carved out of the interior of the city wall itself.

He guided her a short way down the corridor, leading the way to a stone desk behind which sat a very tall, buxom woman with poisonous-purple hair, eyeshadow, and lipstick.

"I leave you in Yesminka's capable hands," said Wysst. "Yesminka, Miss Ma'Sijor is a special client, hero of the neighborhood. See that she's treated proper." He departed back to the bar.

Yesminka stood up to her full height and strolled around the desk, placing her hands on Anwen intimately. "What is your preference?" she said in a deep, rich voice. "As I'm sure Wysst has told you, we offer a veritable rainbow of options."

"I-I, uh… let me, uh…" Anwen stammered, red in the face. Unable to get another word out, she undid her leather tunic, letting it drop to the ground, revealing the golden Arkhosian lingerie. She ran her hands up her own body and allowed a relaxed smirk to appear on her face. "Show me how you treat your nobles."

Yesminka looked over the gold accoutrement with great interest. "Well! The noble treatment it is. That will be fifty gold, delivered directly to your courtesan. Have you any race, age, or gender preferences? Or shall I surprise you?"

"B-before we start, Yes… um, minka," Anwen said unsteadily, "was there a snake-head woman here?"

Yesminka frowned. "There's no need for racial slurs, Miss Ma'Sijor. You refer to Nyima. A respected businesswoman. She came here to discuss investments with Mister Wysst. But their business is none of mine or yours. What sort of companion shall I send to your noble room, miss?"

"Of course, you're right," Anwen said hastily. "Um, I'd like a woman of the older and more experienced type, one to show me the ropes in being a lady of the night. One who is willing."

"As you wish," said Yesminka, writing that down. "You will be in Room Thirty." She handed Anwen a key marked with the number, and pointed her to the torchlit stairwell leading down, deep below the city. "She will be with you shortly."

Anwen nodded and made her way down the stairs; at the bottom of the flight was a long stone-walled hallway, lined with numbered doors. Passing Room Twenty-Nine, Anwen found herself at the top of another staircase, going downward still further and leading to another hallway. Room Thirty was the first room to the right at the bottom of this second staircase, and was a finely-kept chamber with a huge bed, a dresser, large mirrors, boxes of perfume and incense, and breath mints on the pillow.

A few short minutes after Anwen's arrival, she arrived: a black-haired half-elf woman with swooping eyeliner, wearing attire with a desert-themed scheme of colors and designs.

"Greetings, my lady," she said with a practiced curtsy. "I am Tisenny. They tell me you are of the nobility. For a sum of fifty crowns, I am yours until the dawn."

Anwen scratched her neck nervously, blushing. Shaking her head to clear it, she coughed and straightened up. "Uh, Tisenny, how long have you been… doing this? Like, how often do you…"

Tisenny brushed her hair out of her eyes. "I have been a courtesan at this bar since it opened thirty years ago, my lady. I am generally assigned to the noble rooms, so I don't quite get work every day… why do you ask?"

"Well, to be honest," said Anwen, "I came here to not just experience your presence, but to take part in this business as well, part-time at least. I'm sorry to disappoint you in that regard, I obviously should've made that clearer to your, err, boss here."

Tisenny blinked. "So… you have come here to _become_ a companion, not to see one? You have gone a long way off-course."

Anwen sighed. "Yeah, I can't say I really thought this through other than finding a medusa and getting laid. Look, if you want you can have whatever money I have left over, it's not a lot and it does not cover the cost, but I'll do any sort of favor that you or your… boss may have. I'm sorry for wasting your time."

She brought a hand to her chin, looking at Anwen with raised eyebrows. "You're telling me you don't have fifty crowns, my lady?"

Anwen shook her head. "Unfortunately, no. I'm sorry."

Tisenny briefly looked annoyed, but regained her composure and resumed her doting manner. "All things are possible, my lady. I see that you wear attire of purest gold. The brassiere alone would pay for ten of me."

Anwen went silent, pondering her options, running her hand over the Arkhosian lingerie. Finally, she sighed. "Miss, I'm sorry, but I don't really think I'd want to give this up for a meaningless fling. We didn't do anything, so I don't really believe I owe you. I'm sorry, this was a bad idea." She headed for the door.

Tisenny hastened to keep pace with her. "Very well. Please tell Yesminka that it was no fault of mine, if you could."

"Of course," said Anwen, trudging down the hallway. "Hey, if you ever need a favor or anything, well, hopefully you'll figure it out. Again, sorry for the time wasted."

Tisenny curtsied again. "As you will, my lady."

Anwen ascended the two staircases, bringing her back to Yesminka's desk. The woman frowned. "Something wrong, Miss Ma'Sijor?"

"Uh, just me being an absolute prude and not being ready for something I signed up for," Anwen sighed. "No one's fault but my own, you know. Maybe I'll come back when I'm ready. Sorry for wasting time… heh."

Yesminka scanned her face carefully. "Did the girl ask you to say that? Has she done something wrong?"

Anwen raised an eyebrow. "No, I honestly didn't think I could. She was an absolute angel. It's entirely a 'me' issue, not her."

"Very well," said Yesminka. "I understand. It… happens to the best of us. Do feel free to return if the need strikes you." She escorted Anwen to the door leading back to the tavern proper.

"Maybe," Anwen said simply, picking her tunic up off the floor and putting it back on before following.

Wysst looked up as she entered the bar. "Back already? What seems to be the problem?"

"I just felt like I came here for the wrong reasons," Anwen said hesitantly. "Like… why pay to fuck when I can be _paid_ to fuck, you know?"

Wysst looked alarmed. "Well… my dear Anwen, you would certainly be a prize! I accept your application. You will… need some training, of course."

"Hmm, really?" Anwen said nonchalantly. "Well, I've trained in weapons, how hard could it be?"

He grinned broadly. "Well, I can hardly believe this is happening. This life appeals to you, then? I assure you, a lovely half-elven maiden would be very much in demand. Let us… talk the matter over with Yesminka."

"Well, I must admit I'd rather see it as a part-time opportunity," Anwen said softly.. "Like when I'm not busy doing my duty protecting others, a little extra crowns couldn't hurt, you know? I do hope that's manageable."

Wysst considered her carefully for several seconds, before finally saying, "Yes, that sounds reasonable."

"Perfect," she said. "I'm sure this will be the start of something exciting."

Wysst led the way back to Yesminka's desk in the back corridor. "Yesminka," he called out, delighted. "Miss Ma'Sijor is interested in joining our family."

"Truly?" said Yesminka, looking over Anwen's body with a discerning eye. "Well, then, take her to Room Two. I'll be right with her."

Wysst proceeded to the stairs, gesturing for Anwen to follow. "Room One is the bunk where our companions stay. Allow me to bring you to Room Two for a small initiation."

"Oh, of course," said Anwen, following him. "Would I _need_ to stay in Room One? I have a place around here."

Rather than answer, Wysst descended the stairs to the first hallway, opening the door marked with the number two, and patiently waiting for Anwen to catch up.

Anwen stood still for a moment, her eyes narrowing, but she brushed it off and followed him, entering the room.

The walls of Room Two were lined with many sets of manacles and shackles. "Yes, you would have to stay in Room One," said Wysst. "Slaves don't get their own homes."

Anwen instinctively dodged as the burly door guard, Bouncer, came out of nowhere and attempted to grab her by the wrists. As she spun to face him, he drew an enormous sword and took a swing at her, which sailed over her head.

From her crouched position, Anwen drew her axe and hacked at Bouncer's chest; the blow bounced harmlessly off of his scale armor. She rolled out of the way of another blow, and darted out of the room, racing up the stairs.

"Stop her!" Wysst roared, his voice a hateful growl. "Stop her! She must be MINE! If you damage her, you'll pay!"

Bouncer followed Anwen up the stairs, drawing a crossbow as he did so. As she entered Yesminka's corridor, an arrow hit her in the back. She turned back and brought her axe and scimitar to bear, but upon seeing Bouncer reloading and Yesminka standing up with a fiery expression, she bolted for the door.

Yesminka pursued her and pointed a hand. A jet of green energy shot from her finger and zapped Anwen, but she fought through it, continuing to run until she found herself out in the streets. As she tried to sprint away, she almost instantly tripped, falling prone on the cobblestones in the pouring rain.

A cloud of mist emanated from the door of the tavern, hiding her from view. Someone held Anwen by the feet and dragged her back inside the tavern.

~0~0~0~

Artin adjusted her hair as she walked up to the door of Snowfire Stable, smoothing out her clothes and smiling before knocking on the doorframe. "Micah? I am here now."

The huge man turned to face her, and his face broke out in a grin. "Miss Artin! Well, I didn't think you'd take me up on my offer. I'd be glad to show you around."

"My word is my bond. Besides, one would have to be a fool to pass up an opportunity to learn by your… strong, callused hands." Artin bit her lip, brushing her fingers across the back of his hand.

He gave her hand a squeeze before eagerly leading her into the stable. "I'm boarding eight animals at the moment. You've already met this one." He ruffled the mane of the horse he had been riding when she first saw him. "And, of course, my newest ward, the crodlu. Gary hasn't named the beast yet—he wants to wait until he's gotten to know its personality. And over here are Poppy and Mertil, the lovely Valenar horses owned by Pelora's family. Valenar horses are elf-bred and of a fey nature, famed for their intelligence and swiftness.

"Every other animal here, I've simply acquired in one way or another, and hope to sell off to good owners. I have two other common riding horses, then there's this monster of a war horse… and this is a draft lizard. They're common in swamplands and the underground. A rare find for these parts. Ah, other than that, this place is just supplies for caring for the animals; treats, various cleaning implements. There's a corral out here where I can walk them around a little bit if I don't have enough time to run them outside of the city walls. And, uh, up here…"

He pointed to the ladder leading up through the ceiling. "This leads to the loft where I live. By myself, usually, but Gary is staying with me while we train the crodlu."

Artin offered her hand to the first horse he pointed out, allowing it to sniff her before she patted its nose. "So… I'm very new in town, and I don't really understand how things work here. Does the temple own these stables and you run it for them? Are they your stables and your animals, or do folks pay you to room and board their animals for them?"

"The stables are mine," he said. "Most of the animals are mine, but Poppy and Mertil are being boarded. And, how about you? What brings you to Sheradon?"

"I'm with the traveling circus, of course!" Artin boasted. "Strongwoman Artin!" She flexed her muscles before deflating slightly. "At least I was. Some eccentric crackpot, Semaji, hired me to be your town's savior, I guess? Pay is good, so I guess I'm staying here, might as well figure out how this town ticks sooner rather than later."

"Hmm, well, I'm afraid I don't have many eyes and ears in town," said Micah. "You want to know about the wilderness to the north, I'm your man. But to learn the ins and outs of the town itself? Hmm… I'd have to think about who to recommend you talk to about that."

"Well, Anwen and Pelora have been showing me around. Got my belly button pierced at Random's, got kicked out of a spa, briefly went to the Copper Something—you know they're hiring? Seems like an easy side job, especially if I'll be sticking around here."

He nodded. "Well, seems you're learning your way around quickly enough. I was… never interested in that particular brand of exploring. But if it's adventure you're after, well, nothing beats the northern forests. I'd love to show you around the area sometime."

"I would definitely like a tour of the forests," Artin said eagerly. "We passed through them to get here, but the circus just focuses on getting from one town to the next safely. There isn't much exploring to be done when your next meal ticket is a day away. That being said, I've been running around all day. Would it be acceptable for us to just find a cool place to sit and relax a while?"

He leaned against the ladder. "Well, as I said, I'm not much of a man about town. It's a bit rainy for visiting _my_ favorite hangouts, and I don't know where in town we might go." He tapped one of the ladder's rungs. "If you want to stay out of the rain and keep cool, the only place I know is my own personal bedroom. But that's not where you want to go, surely…"

Artin flashed a wicked grin. "My my my, so presumptuous, Mister Micah, but you only recommend to fulfill my request, so how could I refuse? Yes, if you do not mind, I would like that."

"Presumptuous?" he said, genuinely confused. "Er… well, all right then. We'll hang out in the loft. After you."

He stepped back, offering her the ladder. She ascended it as he held it steady for her.

~0~0~0~

Some half an hour later, Pelora emerged from the temple. Across the street at Snowfire Stable, she heard the distinctive, rhythmic clattering of furniture and the carnal moans of Artin and Micah. Gary stood outside the stable, looking pouty.

Pelora crossed the street to him. "Now what is the matter, friend?"

He gestured upward at the source of the noise. "What do you think? Micah kicked me out so he and Artin could hmm-hmm, but I'm not from around here, I don't know where to go."

"Well… I don't know since I barely know this town at all," said Pelora. "But how about doing whatever you feel for?"

He thought about that. "I dunno. You know any place to eat around here?"

"There's a dwarven restaurant, at the mercantile district," Pelora suggested. "It's directly south from here. I ate there once and it was delicious."

"Ooh, I love dwarven food. Thanks. I'll see if I can find it." He started off, then turned back to her. "Would, ah, would you like to join me?" He gave her a sidelong smile.

"Oh, thank you, but I have to decline. You see, I am waiting for someone whom I have an appointment with. I'm afraid you must dine by yourself. I hope you'll have a good time, friend."

Gary blinked, then shrugged in acceptance. "All right. I'll see you around." He departed.

Pelora returned to the temple and sat down on the stone steps. She could hear Micah release a strangled cry before everything on Snowfire Stable's second floor went quiet. Artin looked down, disappointed, at Micah, who had passed out and, after a short silent moment, started snoring.

A few minutes later, Artin emerged from the stable and sat down beside Pelora. "Welp, here we are," she said. "You gonna join?"

"No thank you, I'm just waiting here."

"Huh? I meant Semaji's vigilante group."

"Oh," said Pelora, blushing. "I meant, yes. I'm considering to join."

The rain suddenly became thicker, icier. An incredibly chilly wind disrupted the humid spring rain, coming from the west, the direction of the north gate district's residential area. From that direction, two figures were passing by: a halfling man, accompanied by what was unmistakably a dragon, a white one about seven feet long, loping along at the man's side like some long-limbed alligator, its wings folded over its back.

Pelora perked up. "Oh, a white dragon. How curious… Artin, have you seen white dragons before?"

"Yeah, we had one in our circus for a short while," Artin said uneasily. "Made everyone kind of nervous, so we didn't have it long."

"I want fish," the dragon growled in a shrill voice.

"We're going to get fish right now, Ingelo," the halfling man said, sounding exhausted.

"Give me fish!"

"We're going to _get_ fish. Calm yourself."

"I! Want! FISH!"

And with that, the young dragon breathed a huge blast of icy air that froze and killed three passerby.

"Oh shit!" Artin exclaimed, leaping to her feet in shock.

"Good heavens!" said Pelora, also jumping up, bringing her hands to her mouth.

The dragon clawed angrily at his halfling keeper, one swipe creating several bloody gashes across the man's chest.

With slight hesitation, Artin and Pelora charged toward the dragon, bashing him over the head and neck with their weapons. With a primal scream, the dragon turned to Pelora and bit her on the shoulder. Ice seeped out of his teeth, digging into Pelora's wounds.

Artin bashed him over the head, dislodging him from Pelora, and continued smacking him over the head many times, leaving his head battered and bloody. Pelora's staff glowed with white light, and she hit him on the flank, the white light reducing some of her wounds.

The dragon unleashed a blast of icy air from its maw right at Artin, the numerous tiny ice crystals digging into her flesh and freezing her to the ground.

Artin broke out of her icy prison, cracking the dragon in the front foot with her hammer. Pelora attempted a few jabs and swings with her glowing staff, but made no connection; a beam of light cleared the many tiny wounds off of Artin's face and chest.

Instantly, the dragon pounced on Artin, slashing at her with his claws and then striking like a snake at her face, leaving her a mangled, bloody mess.

Artin screamed in rage and pain, hefting her hammer up high. "THIS—IS WHY—I DIDN'T—WANNA FUCK—WITH THE DRAGON!" she screeched, punctuating the sentence with repeated strikes to the beast's head.

The dragon glared at her, quivering for a moment before falling to the ground, flat on his face.

The wounded halfling man staggered over to the dragon's unconscious body. "Is he dead?" he asked wearily.

Artin whirled on the man, brandishing her hammer, still enraged. "Who the FUCK are you and why do you have a dragon?!"

He took a fearful step back before answering. "I tried, you know. I really tried. I found his egg in an ice cave in the middle of the lake. I didn't want to just leave a baby to die, even if it _was_ a chromatic dragon."

"Since when do dragons need help surviving?!"

"Since always," he said coldly. "They're intelligent beings, they need a parent to teach them… or so I thought. From the day he hatched, he could hunt on his own and was completely out of control. I tried so hard to raise him right, but… I don't think he ever really loved me. Now tell me, did you kill him?"

"I don't know, but it certainly tried to kill all three of us, and succeeded in killing them!" Artin gestured angrily at the three frozen corpses of the dragon's first victims.

"You don't know?" He drew a dagger and stabbed the dragon in the head, leaving the weapon buried there. "There. _Now_ he's dead. Thank you for fighting valiantly, ladies. I'm sorry that this happened."

Pelora goggled at him in horror. "I was actually kind enough to spare the dragon's life and you went and killed it anyways!" she yelled. "What is wrong with you?!"

"It had to happen," he said in a hollow, sorrowful voice. "It's a tragedy. He was, after all, a sapient creature, and only a year old. Perhaps if I had done something different, he might have… might have turned out differently. But no. Like most of his kind, he was just a monster. And I failed him."

"I… I'm done here," Pelora said disgustedly, turning away.

Artin growled and punched the man in the face, knocking him onto the dragon's corpse before following Pelora.

A woman stood over the halfling. "Shame on you, Bryan Nefield," she said darkly. "For a year, you ignored the urgings of your community to abandon this project, and now people are dead."

He stared up at her dolefully. "Don't you think I'm ashamed enough? I know I've done wrong, I… I know." He stood up, hanging his head. "I'm gonna… go… get… some fish." He walked away.

~0~0~0~

A few minutes later, the freezing rain had let up somewhat, but the chill remained in the air. Semaj entered the area, doing a double-take at the dragon's body and the frozen figures of his victims, and quickly sidestepped the carnage to get to Pelora and Artin, waiting for him on the front stairs of the temple. "What in the Nine Hells happened here?"

"We fought a dragon gone rogue," Pelora said exhaustedly. "A halfling thought he could tame it from when it hatched, but it seems like it was too much for him to handle."

"Idiot fuckhead," Artin grumbled.

Semaj surveyed the carnage, then turned back to them, grinning. "Aw, man, I missed the team's first dragon? Well, that's just a crying shame. But, all of you made it out alive." He paused, looking them over, and went pale. "All of you made it out alive, right? Where's Anwen?"

"Yeesh, where _is_ Anwen?" Artin wondered.

"I don't know," said Pelora. "She weren't here when we fought the dragon. She hasn't arrived yet. We agreed to meet up by the temple, but it looks like she weren't one time. How odd…"

"Do you think she decided not to join up?" said Artin. "Huh, she seemed like the most willing of us all."

"Well, I don't know about that, but she _was_ supposed to be the one in charge," Semaj mumbled. "Aha! Here comes my little spy—answers should be forthcoming."

Sora emerged from the rain, holding her vast fur coat over her head to shield herself.

"Hey, kid," said Artin. "Any clue where your charge is?"

Sora looked around. "Huh. Thought she'd be here. After we all parted ways I just… took the occasional glance out the window… she went into the Copper Something. Never saw her leave. I thought I just missed her…"

Semaj's face darkened. "Well… thank you very much, Sora. This sort of thing is why I hired you. Oh, Anwen, how could you be so naïve…? Come on, y'all." He started marching for the slums.

"Semaj!" Pelora exclaimed, walking along by his side. "Why would Anwen return to Copper Something, and do you think something has happened to her? Maybe that's why she hasn't returned in the past hour."

"Calm down," said Artin, keeping pace with them. "She probably just wanted a little fun and lost track of time."

"The Copper Something is where all the cash-rich, morally bankrupt folks in the city go in secret to gamble, trade slaves, and enjoy perfectly-preserved, perfectly submissive prostitutes," said Semaj. "If Anwen went in and never came out, we can assume she's been taken by the slavers. I mean… it's either that or she just happened to miss our rendezvous, but that's just ridiculous."

"Then she must've gotten into trouble, since she never returned," said Pelora. "She is usually on time, as far as I know. Semaj, how serious is it? If we fight them, will it be high-level or something?"

Semaj paused, pondering the question. "Hmm… guards… mercenaries… loyal patrons… oh, gods… yeah, this is _not_ a fight that we can handle. We'll be up against one of the strongest forces in Sheradon. We'll have to handle this… with grace and tact."

"You don't think you're overreacting?" said Artin. "The only person wound tighter than Anwen is this cleric. Girl needs to get laid."

"Who does? Anwen? Well, I hope I'm wrong. I _hope_ she just got lost in a cup and a companion." He dithered a bit, his hands shaking. "Regardless, if she is with someone, we ought to let her know said someone is in fact a mind-broken slave. Wouldn't want her doing anything… unheroic."

"Hmm, yeah, I suppose you're right about that," Artin agreed grimly.

"I don't know, this is shady," said Pelora. "I don't think Anwen would do that… no, she must've ran into more trouble than she could handle." She crossed her arms resolutely. "But I'm willing to fight them, for her sake."

"Again, we… we want to avoid the… the fighting thing," Semaj said uneasily. "I mean… not to tell you what to do. That's not my job. But we're heading into very, very dangerous waters here, so to speak. Let's do what we can to get Anwen out of their clutches without a weapon being drawn."

"Diplomatics, perhaps?" said Pelora, nodding. "That's a wise plan."

Semaj nodded back. "I hope we're up to the task."

~0~0~0~

The four of them stood outside the door to the Copper Something. Semaj gently prodded Pelora and Artin forward. "I'll let you two take this. Social grace and subtlety. All right?"

Artin nodded, looking up at the others. "So, if we are going in to talk our way out, maybe we should plan what would be the best course of action before going in?"

"Okay, Artin," said Pelora. "We must be polite and not engage in battle at once. They will probably be much stronger than us, so let's take it easy." She took a deep breath, muttered a prayer, and stepped into the tavern.

Wysst looked up as she approached, and immediately tensed up. "Yeeeeessss?"

Pelora stepped up to the bar. "Yes, hello. I am Pelora and I'm looking for a friend. You might recognized us from earlier. I hear she went here, but she hasn't returned as she was told."

"Ah… yes," said Wysst, relaxing slightly. "You're Miss Ma'Sijor's friends. As it happens, yes, she came here seeking companionship, but in the end decided she'd rather join my employ. She's going through training and initiation as we speak."

"Excuse me?" said Pelora, frowning. "No, that isn't possible. Anwen is a good and honorable person with a great moral compass. This doesn't sound like her and I want to see her. Now."

"Hey now, don't be like that," said Artin, coming up on Pelora's side. "There is nothing dishonorable about this profession. Please, sir, could we please see her and congratulate her on her new job?"

Pelora lightly kicked Artin's foot. "I never said this was a bad profession. But I still want to see her."

Wysst's hand slowly went to the knife on his belt and he took a subtle step to the side, closer to his young nephew. He shot Artin a smile. "I would love to oblige, believe me, but sadly she is currently going through a, er, boot camp of sorts. She should be out by the end of the tenday. You can see her then."

"I am not moving until I get to see her," Pelora said stubbornly. "She is my friend and I want to see her."

"And I'm _sorry_ , but I am _afraid_ that she is currently occupied. If you like, I can send for you when her training is completed."

"How long might that take?" asked Artin.

"Um, a tenday?" said Wysst's nephew. "He just said that."

"I am not moving," said Pelora, crossing her arms. "You can always try to force me to leave, but I won't."

Wysst chuckled warmly, bending down lower to take cover behind his nephew. "Well then, I'm afraid we're going to have words. Bouncer?"

The burly man stepped forward.

Artin produced a bag of coins, playing with it to create an audible jingle. "Surely you can make an exception for us. We are her dearest friends in the world, and knowing she has our support would help her keep her heart in the training, I just know it."

Wysst shook his head. "I'm sorry, miss, we just can't do it. As I've mentioned, we're very diligent about maintaining our companions."

"Tell me…" Pelora said coldly. "Why would my friend work for a _slave trader_?"

Wysst immediately broke out in a huge smile. "Ah. There we have it then. You… might have opened with that. I see neither of us needed to bother with the subterfuge. Now that we're all on the same page, I'm sorry to inform you that you're likely never to see your friend again. She is undergoing the process of being broken. Even if I did let you see her at the end of the tenday, there would be very little of Anwen Ma'Sijor left, just a perfect, beautiful husk… ever eager to please."

Artin produced twenty gold coins and stacked them on the bar. "Make an exception."

"No," Wysst said simply, pushing the two stacks of coins away. "You'll find she's worth more than that."

"Fifty, then."

"Closer. For fifty, you can have her for a night once she's drone 'training'. But I'm afraid I'll need a much more solid investment if I'm to let her go completely."

"A hundred and fifty," said Artin. "Right now, no questions asked, and we will leave you in peace."

"I'm stunned you think so little of your friend."

"Yeah, for real," said Semaj, entering the tavern dramatically. "I've had just about enough of this. Wysst, we'll give you three thousand crowns for her."

Wysst looked over Semaj in surprise. "Hmm. Didn't know you were the type to trade in my beautiful companions. But I think Miss Ma'Sijor will net me more than that in the long run. You may not know this, but she's renowned as one of the most beautiful women in Sheradon. Thank you for your offer, but I will not be giving her up for any sum."

"Ten thousand crowns."

"Oh, please. I know who you are, Semaj Oklahim. Ten thousand is commons to you. If she truly means something to you…"

"Twenty-five thousand crowns," said Semaj. "Final offer."

Wysst reeled, completely stunned. "She's yours," he submitted.

Artin stepped back in surprise. "Semaj, remind me to talk to you about a raise when we get out of here…"

"Well, technically, the plan was for me to just finance your adventures while you make money off treasure found in your travels," Semaj said flippantly, "but yeah, we'll talk about it. Pleasure doing business with you, Mister Wysst. Will you take a check?"

"No."

"A'ight. Cash it is." Semaj handed Wysst a small sack of coins.

Suspiciously, Wysst reached into the sack and produced an enormous coin of pure white metal. "Fuck me," he marveled. "A real-live dragon…"

"Two hundred and fifty dragons, to be exact," Semaj said smugly.

Pelora gazed at Semaj with admiration, before turning back to Wysst nervously.

He cleared his throat and straightened up. "Bouncer, tell Yesminka there's no need to initiate Miss Ma'Sijor. We have a buyer for her." Bouncer nodded and retreated into the back rooms.

"Semaj, what did he mean with Anwen's beauty is renowned?" Pelora asked. "Anwen told me that no one cares about the ones living in the slums, but how come saying a thing like that?"

"Most people don't care about the slums, unless they're coming to this joint for some illicit entertainment," said Semaj. "But Anwen's got a reputation. For protecting the people, for being kinda rude, and yeah, there are some rumors that she's unbelievably good-looking. Not unlike the rumors about you being a sun avatar of some sort. I wasn't sure when I first met her and she was all covered in grime, but since she's cleaned up a bit, I wouldn't be surprised if it were objectively true that she's the most beautiful woman in Sheradon."

"So, a victory for the conquering heroes, eh?" said Wysst. "Let's hope all the problems in this city can be solved by your wallet, Mister Oklahim. Miss Ma'Sijor's blades proved… ineffective."

"She'll get there," said Semaj, staring him down. "And one day she'll topple all the crooks like you."

"Wha—sun avatar?" Pelora exclaimed. "For real?! Is that what people think I am? I'm not such thing, I'm just a mere cleric dedicated to Pelor." She buried her face in her hands. "The things people makes up for fun…"

"I exaggerate for effect," Semaj said casually. "People say stuff _like_ that about you. Not sure anyone really believes it."

"Should I worry for other ridiculous rumors that has been spread behind my back?" Pelora asked, frowning.

"Er… well… one guy said you had teeth in your vagina and that's why they don't let anybody see you lest you bite their dicks off, but mostly it was either your parents being overprotective or you being sacred to Pelor."

"Ha!" Artin barked. "Teeth…"

"It gets even worse!" Pelora said, horrified. "Oh, Pelor, what has I done to deserve such dishonorable rumors… the sun avatar theory was at least flattering!"

Bouncer returned, and unceremoniously tossed Anwen out to the middle of the tavern, where she landed prone on the ground, naked but unharmed. Beside her, Bouncer tossed a bundle of her clothing and equipment.

Anwen sat up silently, hastily dressing herself before standing up, shooting quick glances at Pelora and Artin and wrinkling her nose at Semaj. Saying nothing, she picked up her weapons and staggered toward the exit.

"Wasn't she wearing something gold?" Wysst's nephew inquired.

"Tcht!" said Wysst, lightly cuffing the boy in the head.

"Thieves…" Pelora muttered. "No wonder the wrong kind gets power… greedy and lecherous, all of them…" She scurried to the exit, catching up with Anwen. "We're out of here, my friend. This is no place for you."

Anwen said nothing, just looked at Pelora, expressionless.

"Look, I simply don't care whatever happens," said Pelora. "Dignity be gone, you're my best friend, if I dare to say, and I would cross fire for you. So let's leave this awful place together."

The two of them left the tavern and rejoined Sora, who was waiting outside. Semaj stared after them. "I have to do _everything_ ," he grumbled to himself. "Give back the lingerie, Wysst. You've made enough profit on this transaction."

"But of course," Wysst said smoothly. "My mistake. Bouncer, you fool, you forgot to give back everything she had on her."

Bouncer nodded his head and disappeared into the back rooms once again.

A few moments later, Semaj rejoined the group, bearing Anwen's gold lingerie. "Here," he said, tossing it into her arms. "Don't ever say I didn't do anything for you."

Pelora beamed at him. "You are truly a good person, Semaj." To Anwen, she added, "We wouldn't have gotten you out if it wasn't for him. I'm afraid I probably wouldn't have survived a fight with all those."

Anwen closed her eyes and exhaled. "What did he do?"

"I paid twenty-five thousand crowns for you," he said modestly. "Not a big deal. Just had it on me."

"So… you bought me."

"Bought your freedom, my friend," Pelora said firmly. "Not you. You aren't something to own."

"Just trying to speak his language," Semaj added. "I mean, if it helps, I hereby set you free."

Anwen was silent for a moment before answering. "You still took part in it. Just because you said you free me doesn't take away the fact. Especially when the other girls there won't have that."

"We can't fight it, Anwen," he said solemnly. "Not yet. We've only just begun. If stopping the illegal slave trade in Sheradon is one of your priorities, we'll work our way up to that. Now if we're done with our daily dose of distorting everything I say and do, I'd like to ask you all for the verdict. Which of you has decided that you'll be living with me in the new Whirlwind headquarters?"

"Um, I will live in the new headquarters," said Pelora, raising a hand. "I made up my mind while I was alone earlier and got some thinking. We're doing this for a good thing, to stop the darkness, and I felt, well… maybe I can make a difference."

"Must we?" Anwen said snidely.

Semaj glared. "No. That's why it was a question."

"Well, I just don't know anymore, 'Master'," she sneered.

"Anwen, you're still you!" Pelora exclaimed. "Only your freedom has been bought and returned, not you as a person. Nothing has changed!"

Semaj removed his glasses and pocketed them, staring Anwen down with disdainful hazel eyes. "Do whatever the fuck you want, I don't need your attitude anymore. Artin, how about you? I know you'll need a place to stay if you're staying in Sheradon. My house is open."

"I'll stay at your place," said Artin, "but only once the circus moves on to the next town."

"Staying with the circus until it leaves, then?" said Semaj. He nodded. "All right, that works. Your room will be ready for you when the time comes." He turned to Anwen. "Last chance, Anwen. I know you want to make a difference. Now will you do it from the comfort of my home or won't you?"

"Anwen," Pelora said gently, "I know he had you killed before, when all of this started and I know you have severe trust issues with him. But you can trust him, I'd vouch for him and you trust me, right? Everyone got flaws; he got them, you got flaws, and even I have flaws. If you still don't trust him, then trust me instead." She offered up her hand.

"Pfft, or don't," Artin supplied. "I don't trust him. It's just a cushy place to stay on the cheap."

Pelora shot Artin a dirty look before turning back to Anwen. "What do you say, Anwen?"

Anwen, not looking at any of them, grabbed Pelora's hand tightly; with her other hand, she held up her axe, pointing it right at Semaj. "Well, it's the lesser of two evils, I suppose."

"Anwen, what are you doing?!" Pelora cried out. "Put that axe down this instant!"

Anwen lowered it, rolling her eyes.

"I don't ask you to trust him, but please be at least civil?" Pelora begged. "And you won't sleep with that axe, you will put it away at night or I will."

Semaj lit a cigar. "Nah, I see what she's saying. So, I'll be taking in all three of you, then? Good. Return to your homes, get all your possessions; move in tonight, if you wish. I'll be seeing you around." He began to leave, doing a double-take at Sora. "Oh hey, you're still here."

She grinned and waved to him.

"Either way," he continued, "we'll meet at my place in the morning and we can talk about our next step."

"How early in the morning?" Pelora asked.

"Doesn't matter," he said, smiling brightly at her. "We'll figure it out."

Anwen nodded.

Pelora smiled back shyly. "Well, then we settled it then."

~0~0~0~

Anwen returned to her apartment building, finding Atasha lurking around the massive hole in the building's front.

"Hey," said Atasha. "I was just in the neighborhood, because, you know, I live here, and word on the street is that mister rich guy, shades and a red suit guy, has invited you to live with him in his house. That true?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Anwen said wearily. "You wanna trade?"

"Trade? Do I get your place?" She pointed up at the lone remnant of the building's second floor. "Well, beats the hell out of mine…"

Anwen sighed. "Yeah, let me just get some things out, you know? Wanna come with? Not much, but I'm sure you can do something with it."

Atasha clasped her hands together and bowed her head. "So, you've finally done it. Gotten out of here. You suck, Ma'Sijor."

"Yeah, I do," Anwen agreed. "You wanna come with or what? Spend one more night there, and then away to the rich ass."

Atasha gazed up at the window. "Yeah, I'll scope the place out. Stake my claim on it, heh heh heh… let's go."

Anwen nodded and began to ascend the ladder. "This is what I should've done," she muttered to herself.

"That gold stuff you're carrying," said Atasha. "You had it the other day too. What is it?"

"Arkhosian lingerie," said Anwen. "A kid got buried alive 'cause of it."

"Hmph. That is a very good treasure…"

Anwen passed through the hole in the floor and entered the apartment, Atasha following close behind, looking around at the tiny space and Anwen's few possessions.

"Mm-hmm," said Atasha. "Okay. Decent space, I can work with this. I think Rhea will be glad to have the place to herself. Can I keep the hammock? You don't really need it, right? You'll get a real bed there?"

"Yeah, of course, knock yourself out," said Anwen. "So… you and Rhea?"

"What about us? We're not joined at the hip. I can snag your apartment and she'll be fine on her own. We can still adventure together."

"Not what I meant," said Anwen, rubbing her arm. "Just… have you ever been, you know, together?"

"Nah," Atasha said casually, still looking around. "She's more… my lackey. I keep her at arm's length. Impersonal."

"Oh, well, I guess that makes sense," said Anwen, sitting down on the floor and watching her carefully. "You ever been together with anyone, even just for just casual pleasure? You know?"

"I'm seventy years old, Ma'Sijor. I didn't spend all that time twiddling my thumbs." She squinted at Anwen suspiciously. "Why?"

Anwen laughed. "Right, right, just… I don't know. I've had a bad day. Just wanted to feel what it's like, you know? Just sensations and all. Like, sensations other than being gagged and chained, if you know what I mean."

"…No, I don't know what you mean. Not even a little bit."

"Yeah… long story… I-I'm not good at this or getting to the point, but sometimes, I want to feel things. On another level. It blew up in my face when I tried and… I just want someone I know, to do this with. Oh, gods, I sound stupid!"

Atasha chuckled cruelly. "You have no game whatsoever, Ma'Sijor, but, fuck it, I got nowhere else to go."

When Anwen said nothing, Atasha took her by the wrist, pulling her to her feet. Considering Anwen for a moment, Atasha seized her and kissed her deeply, deftly undoing the straps of her armor as she did so.

Anwen moaned as her armor dropped to the ground. "Let's see how this duel goes," she breathed, grasping Atasha tightly and kissing her back.

~0~0~0~

Artin sighed, looking around at the accoutrements she had gathered in her wagon. "Well, I guess I'd better start packing up," she muttered, half-heartedly gathering some items into a pile.

Alec entered the wagon. "Artin… welcome back."

"Hullo, dear. What a day I've had—these girls may very well be crazier than the entire circus."

"Well, that's… something," he said, bending down to massage her shoulders. "Such is the life of adventure. How was the date with the stable boy?"

"Poor thing didn't last twenty minutes, but it was fun while it lasted. Oh, I got my belly button pierced, too. And got kicked out of the local spa. And punched an asshole who decided he was gonna play mommy to a white dragon. Phew, today seems like it has gone on for weeks. What have you and Hak-Tonog been up to?"

"Nothing so impressive as you," Alec admitted. "Just working on… on an act without you."

Artin's lip tightened. "I'd really like to see that. Hak-Tonog had a solo act that really killed, long before I joined. He's quite the showman and I'm sure between the two of you it will be a brilliant show."

He knelt down, his hands traveling from her shoulders to slip down the front of her shirt, and looked down at her piercing. "Thank you for the vote of confidence. We're really going to miss you when you're gone, Artie."

Artin laughed and reach back to run her hand across the top of his head. "You two are going to be wonderful. I am going to miss you so much, my love."

He hugged her tightly. "Shall I fetch Hak-Tonog? We've been feeling frisky, but as we were expecting you, we thought we'd wait…"

"Oh, yes, please—do you think he'll like it?" Artin shimmied side to side, causing her piercing to swing back and forth.

"Very classy," Alec said approvingly. "I'm sure he will. Let's… find out." He departed the wagon.

~0~0~0~

Pelora arrived at Semaj's mansion, her possessions gathered in her arms. She hesitated as she neared the door, unsure of how to proceed.

Before she could decide, the door opened and Semaj stepped out, smiling at her. "Ah! Coming to see the place already? Wow… you're all packed."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," said Pelora. "It was fairly easy, I don't own much to be honest."

"Naturally, the ever-humble religious pilgrim," he said, bowing. "Well, come in, come in… what's that tapestry? Did you make that?"

"Oh, yes," said Pelora, looking at the tapestry she was carrying under her arm. "I embroider in my spare time… which were a lot before we met. As a novice cleric at the temple, I didn't had so much duties to attend, so I found myself a little hobby. It probably has to be left here once we venture out into the world."

"I'll take good care of it," Semaj promised as Pelora entered the house. "Well… this is my home." He gestured all around to the huge entrance hall, with an enormously wide staircase leading up to a higher floor. "Your room will be… somewhere upstairs, you can take your pick. Make yourself comfortable."

"Quite the palace you're living in," she remarked, looking around at the spacious interior. "Don't you become lonely here? I know I would."

"It's been a pretty lonely life, these past eight years," he admitted. "Got to where I almost couldn't take it anymore. I… I had to find someone, and I'm so glad I did."

"That is very nice of you to say… and flattering. The bedrooms is upstairs, right?" She pointed up the stairs. "Are you sure I can just pick any room?"

"Yeah, I don't really use the second or third floors…"

"Okay then." She started up the stairs.

A few minutes later, Pelora was settling into one of the bedrooms, while Semaj watched her from the door. "Comfortable?"

"Oh, very much. It's a lovely room." She spread herself out on her back on the large bed. "This is nice… well, I made up my mind." She sat up and started to remove her armor. "I should try out the bed properly."

Semaj raised his cigar to her in salute. "I'll leave you to it. See you in the morning."

"I thought you said you don't like being lonely in this place," said Pelora. He stopped. "Can you explain what exactly 'nightly company' is, you who's so worldly experienced?" She smirked.

"Nightly company?" he repeated, puzzled. "What are you getting at? Thought you were going to bed."

She rolled her eyes and strode across the room, grabbing him by the front of his jacket and kissing him lightly on the lips. "Are my intentions clearer now, Semaj?" she asked.

"That does clarify the issue somewhat," he said wryly, and kissed her back, putting his hands on her hips to lift her up off the ground and carry her back to the bed.

~0~0~0~

The following morning, Anwen awakened in her hammock, still intertwined with Atasha. She yawned as her eyes fluttered open, and chuckled as she recalled the night before. "That was great," she whispered to herself, her eyes taking in Atasha's body.

She crawled out of the hammock and got dressed before gathering up her small collection of personal items. She gazed around at the tiny, empty apartment. "Thanks for holding up on me," she said, looking down at the floor.

~0~0~0~

Artin awakened under a big fuzzy blanket in her wagon, nestled perfectly between Alec and Hak-Tonog, who were already awake and gently plying her with kisses and caresses.

"Mmmm," she said, stretching. "Good morning, my loves."

"Morning, Artin," said Hak-Tonog. "Anything we can do for you today? Make you breakfast, organize your stuff, maybe pull the wagon to your new home? We only have so much more time together…"

"I would like some help gathering my things."

"Then we shall!" Alec declared, immediately rising to his full height. Hak-Tonog did his best to do the same, standing as tall as he could in the cramped wagon, and the two of them immediately began gathering up Artin's possessions. Artin grinned, smacking Hak-Tonog's bare bottom before picking up her clothes.

~0~0~0~

Pelora opened her eyes to see Semaj, lying in bed beside her, staring at her with a broad smile.

"Is it morning already…?" she yawned. "What is it? I don't snore, do I? In that case, I'm sorry."

"Nah, you're good," he said. "Just… you know… staring. It's very nice to see you."

He leaned in for a kiss, and she complied. "It's good to see you as well," she said with a smile.

Semaj wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close. "You know… things are complicated, especially with Anwen, and yet, I felt sure that this was really happening, I was really putting this team together. I was sure I was on my way to having everything I ever wanted. But this… I couldn't even have imagined this."

"What do we call us, then?" Pelora asked. "I can't figure out the exact term… or maybe I shouldn't think too much about it." She leaned into his embrace. "I'd enjoy the moment until it ends."

He kissed the top of her head. "Who says it has to end?"

~0~0~0~

Anwen and Artin both arrived at the mansion later that morning, not quite travelling together. As they approached, Semaj emerged from the house, his arm around Pelora, and met with them out in the streets. "Ladies, good to have you," he said. "Time, I think, for an official team meeting—to really figure out our mission statement."

"Yeah, uh, okay," said Artin, squinting as her eyes darted between Semaj and Pelora. "I thought we were just, like, beating up bad guys or something? Maybe some clarification would be good."

"Defending the world from darkness, for the righteous sake," said Pelora. "At least I believe so."

"Well… the first thing I'd like to clarify is that it wasn't my intention to be the one in charge," said Semaj. "Anwen is in charge… at least she's supposed to be. That was the plan." He shot her a contemptuous look. "Me, I'm just the idea guy… the guy who gets the feelers out. And so I shall. When there's a quest for you to take on… I'll let you know."

~0~0~0~

 **Player's Note from McKenzie/Anwen:** _Well, it seems like you had plans for certain storylines to be long-term, but because of our actions from killing a character to learning something really early on has changed that. But you have adapted well and I think we have too. I still get confused on which type of skill I should roll and whether it's with twenty sides or not. Also I didn't come up with Anwen's appearance so her being talked about as gorgeous wasn't by my own design or any Mary Sue-ish intent. I just took on the character's role, not designed her._

 **Player's Note from Jack/Artin:** _I am thoroughly enjoying the game. I'm a bit confused on if that dragon will have larger implications, but mostly I think that's because I just have big expectations for the appearance of a dragon in a game called_ Dungeons & Dragons _. Just seems too easy that one appeared and twenty minutes later it's just dead. Oh well, moving on. Also I'm really enjoying the contention between Artin and Pelora._

 **Player's Note from Nathalie/Pelora:** _It's been interesting, I like how our story is different from other D &D campaigns. I enjoy this far better than the first time and the character developments is going great._

 **DM's Note:** _Well, first of all, when Kenzie submitted her player's note to me, when I asked them all to give some final thoughts on Volume 1, I told her, first of all, that things not going according to the DM's plan is a vital, wonderful part of the game. The story going off in unexpected directions doesn't bother me… though by this chapter, I was starting to get annoyed by how much they're ignoring the NPCs. Pretty much every character who's managed to get one line before Anwen brushed them off was intended to be explored in great depth, and some didn't even get a line. In particular I'm disappointed how the players never seem the slightest bit creeped out by any of the NPCs who are supposed to be creepy._

 _In regard to her confusion, I told her, "You roll the skill I tell you to, when I tell you to do it, and it's always twenty sides no matter what." Apparently she was under the impression that she's supposed to know when to roll a skill check without the DM telling her, and that every time I told her to roll something was a failing on her part. I assured her this was not the case. Also, yeah, Anwen being thought of as the most beautiful woman in Sheradon was my idea. This despite her dismal Charisma score; Meredith is the one who dumped it, but it certainly suits Kenzie and her, well, genuine lack of social skills. But yeah, I figure someone with terrible charisma could easily be absolutely beautiful. I felt that would be an interesting way for Anwen to be perceived socially._

 _This being the end of Volume 1, Anwen, Pelora, and Artin will be Level 2 next time you see them. I don't use XP in my games; the characters level up at the end of a story arc, such as it is._

 _But before that, what comes next is a little experiment I'd like to call Bonus Chapter 1; a one-shot session starring different characters but set in the_ Whirlwind _continuity. I'm using the same characters who were intended to appear in that disastrous_ 13th Age _one-shot I mentioned back in Episode 4. Hopefully, it'll go better this time. We'll see. Stay tuned for that. Two of the characters were created by Kenzie and Naty; the other two by some other friends, who I hope I can get to finally step into the roles. Hard to say, haven't heard from them in a while. I'll be reaching out to them in a moment. On a related note, as Kenzie saw fit to mention that she's playing a character Meredith designed, I have raised the possibility with Meredith of her coming back to play the character Kenzie originally designed. But, like Artin, I'm waiting for the proper moment in the story to introduce new player characters._


	12. Forest Outpost

**DM's Note:** _So, shortly after I posted the previous episode, I approached the players who had been a part of the_ 13th Age _one-shot. Casey, who had created a high elf fighter named Caelynna, was immediately on board, having discovered D &D for herself since my last attempt at getting her into it. Ashley, who had created a human ranger named Marie, thought it would be best if I asked someone else. So I threw a line out into my group of friends to see who had a lot of spare time on Saturday afternoons to be a guest star, and the first to answer the call was Christine, so that's who became the new Marie. The party's two halflings, a bard named Odifira and a ranger named Taramin, had been created by regular players Kenzie and Naty respectively, so there was the assembled cast of Bonus Chapter 1._

 _The sessions that make up Bonus Chapter 1 began on February 23, 2019, during the final weekend of my trip to Sweden. Christine, as it turns out, knew even less about D &D than anyone I'd played with before, which is saying a lot. Didn't even know what hit points are, was familiar with the alignment chart from the memes about it but didn't know it was from D&D, and was surprised to learn there was a combat element, describing it as a "prose video game". Casey, meanwhile, was the first person to join the game who had a good deal of D&D experience and knowledge, which was even scarier. This being my first time playing a full four-character party and running full-sized combat encounters was pretty terrifying either way, I wanted to make a good impression on them both._

~0~0~0~

 **WHIRLWIND**

 **Bonus Chapter 1: Rangers of the North  
** **Episode 12: Forest Outpost**

" _The heart of a ranger be a heart that never gives in, never gives up, will protect the people to the end. Those bastards. Yar."  
_ Gwerf Portos, human pirate, 416 years after the fall

~0~0~0~

In the forests north of Sheradon, two armored women had tracked a swarm of yellow spiders back to their nest. In a quarry of stone, six of the cat-sized spiders faced down Marie and Caelynna.

Marie was a red-haired human in leather armor, wearing a cap with a pair of long bone-carved horns, holding two sharp-bladed sickles in her hands. Caelynna, a towering silver-haired eladrin in greenish scale armor, drew a longsword as the spiders began swarming down.

Marie charged at one of the spiders, accompanied by a large red-furred wolf that circled around the beast, and pierced it with one of her sickles, killing it instantly.

Two other spiders swarmed over Caelynna, crawling all over her and biting any part of her they could reach; she slashed at one, cutting it in two. "Oh, gods, I've got spider guts on me," she said grimly.

The red wolf began scuffling with another spider, while two others began to climb up Caelynna's body.

"Have I mentioned that I hate spiders?" Caelynna said conversationally. "Because I hate them. A lot." She took careful aim with her sword and ran one of the spiders through.

Marie turned to face one of the spiders gnawing at her wolf's legs. "Fuck you," she spat, kicking it. "I've just had the worst fucking day. Eat this…"

She slashed at the spider's belly, cutting it open, and with a single gesture, both Marie and the wolf ran to take cover behind a boulder.

"What do I look like to you eight-legged freaks, a tree?" Caelynna said irritably as one of the spiders climbed over her face. "Bane, give me the strength…" She swung her sword, sending the spider flying.

Marie peered out from behind the boulder, observing the single spider remaining, climbing up Caelynna's leg.

"Go, Nicole," she said. "Bite the shit out of him."

The wolf charged out and snapped at the spider, shaking it back and forth violently before tossing it aside.

Caelynna sheathed her sword and rolled her shoulders. "Shit," she said with a sigh. "Those freaks put up quite the fight."

Marie brushed the dust off of her leather. "Thanks, I hate it. I'll need to bathe for a tenday. Might as well get out of here."

"Please. Before their backup arrives."

"Come on, Nicole. Stop playing with the dead spiders."

~0~0~0~

The pair of them returned to the northern forest outpost, a wooden tower bearing the flag of Sheradon.

"See, if I had a baby dragon," Caelynna was saying, slumping into a chair. "I wouldn't have taken so much damage. Probably."

Marie shrugged. "Probably. Spiders don't stand much of a chance against dragons."

One of the two halflings in the outpost turned and grinned, bouncing excitedly. Odifira was a black-haired beauty wearing a simple peasant dress. "Dragons, you say?" she chirped. "Why didn't ya keep the dragon, baby? Or the spiders, those are _marvelous_!"

"I wish I had a dragon, but I don't," Caelynna lamented. "And, no, you're not bringing any spiders into this outpost as long as I'm around."

"If y'all can shut up about dragons, we can get back to work," said Marie.

Odifira pouted. "Why can't we do both?" she said mischievously. "Talk about dragons, dance with them…" She whipped out a lyre and began plucking its strings. "Or even sing about them and all the beautiful destruction it'd bring."

Caelynna turned her head to the other halfling, Taramin, a middle-aged man with thick, gray-streaked hair. He was watching the road with a spyglass, and had remained still and silent.

"See anything interesting?" Caelynna asked.

Taramin lowered the spyglass. "Why, yes," he said dramatically. "A wagon is coming to the city and goblins are just about to attack it. We should stop them."

"Why?" Odifira said casually.

"Well, shit," Caelynna muttered. "Where's the guard when you need 'em?"

"Yeah, that would be a fun show," Odifira said dreamily.

Taramin stared. "Why…? They're in trouble, that's why! Nevertheless, I'm going to defend them from the incoming threat! Heavens, I wonder what to do with you two, sometimes…"

"Okie-dokie," said Odifira, cheerfully waving him off. "Scream if there's anything interesting down there."

"Ugh!" Taramin snorted. "Stay here then, I'll go!" He bolted out of the tower, shouting "HAH!" as he charged off into the forest.

"Gods, he's gonna get himself killed," said Caelynna, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Marie glared at the two of them. "What am I going to do with you all?"

"Great question!" said Caelynna. "I'll get back to you on that. By the gods, someone get me that healing potion!"

Raising an eyebrow, Marie grabbed a potion from a corner of the room and flung it at Caelynna. It bounced off of the eladrin's face and landed in her lap. "Thanks," Caelynna said dully.

"Think the goblins or the wagon are carrying anything interesting?" Odifira mused. "Like… I could get us some new shinies or whatever that's there…"

Caelynna took a swig of the healing potion and stood up. "Let's go after him before something happens."

Odifira laughed as she walked over to the pile of supplies in the corner. "Hmm… herbs or reagents? Eh, I'll just get tools." She took up a sack of magic dust and a box of thieves' tools. "'Sides, they might reward us. I'm going down to check Tary's fail."

Marie frowned deeply.

Caelynna leapt out the window and drew her sword, whooping loudly. "C'mon, you not itchin' for a fight?" she called to Odifira, who was casually descending the stairs. "Pick up the pace! We got a town to defend!"

Odifira rolled her eyes. "I'm gonna beatcha there, Cael."

Marie retrieved a length of rope from the pile and followed.

~0~0~0~

Taramin stopped in his tracks as he followed the forest trail. The bridge across a ravine had been splintered to pieces, leaving a massive gap in the trail.

"Well, this is a fine mess…" he remarked to himself. "Hrmm… oh, I could use a rope, I'd tie it to an arrow, shoot it at a tree, then tie the other end to another tree and cross…" He patted himself down, finding he had no rope. "Well… so much for that idea."

A hand tapped Taramin's shoulder. He looked up to find Marie standing over him with a rope. "Will this do?" she asked.

Caelynna slowed to a jog then a complete stop as she reached the edge of the ravine. "Well, shit," she remarked. Without hesitation, she took a few steps back, broke into a run, and leapt across.

Her feet didn't clear the gap, but she grasped at the edge of the ravine with her hands, hauling herself up. She turned around to face the others. "What next?"

"You crazy, suicidal nuts, can you just listen to me?" Taramin exclaimed. "No, I planned that I tie the rope to the end of an arrow, shoot it into a tree across the ravine, attach the other end to a tree here, and we can manage to cross it safely by, um, clinging to the rope and pulling ourselves to the other side. You understand?"

Taramin drew his bow and tied the rope to an arrow, then pulled back and shot the arrow into a tree, leaving a limp rope dangling across the ravine.

Caelynna jogged over to the arrow and held it steady. "Ready when you are!"

Taramin tied the other end of the rope tightly to a tree, pulling the rope taut. "Okay," he said, "I think it's better I show how it's gonna be done. It's too long and complicated to explain. Here we go."

He turned his back to the ravine and grasped the rope with his hands, swinging up to grasp it with his legs as well, and began to shimmy his way across the ravine. In a few seconds, he was across, and set his feet down on firm ground. "You see?" he said. "It is as simple as seven meals per day."

"Pick up the pace, you two," Caelynna called to Marie and Odifira. "We don't have all day!"

Odifira drew a whip and flung it at an overhanging tree branch. The whip's tip coiled around the limb, and she swung across the gap easily. "WOOOO!"

"Or that works as well," Taramin said blankly, crossing his arms as Odifira landed neatly on the ground. "Showoff…"

"C'mon, move it already, Marie-wee!" Odifira called, pulling her whip from the tree. "We got goblins to slaughter!"

Marie had elected to cross the ravine in the same manner as Taramin had, crawling across the rope. On the far side of the ravine, the red wolf paced nervously and whined.

"Huh… I forgot we had a wolf," Odifira remarked. "Let's see how well this works…"

Marie reached the other side and turned to face the wolf. "Come here, Nicole," she called. "With the tightrope."

Nicole growled and sniffed at the rope. She bore her teeth in a snarl, and backed away to jump across the ravine, clearing the distance with ease.

"We must push forward, now that we've made it across. Hopefully we don't arrive too late," said Caelynna, turning to Marie. "You're the captain, lead the way."

"Look over there," said Marie, pointing to a bare patch, free of trees. "That's as close to a path as we're going to find in this place."

Several minutes later, Marie had led them to a dead end of solid trees and brambles. "Fucking shit," she growled.

"Yay, we're lost!" Odifira sneered. "For a ranger you really suck at going through a forest."

Marie furrowed her brow, pondering the forest deeply, and took a single step forward, which tripped a wire that sent a sludge-covered skull on a rope swinging down to hit her in the head, knocking her off her feet.

"Phew," Marie remarked. "Nice one."

"Shit," Caelynna muttered. "Ready your weapons, someone may be nearby."

"Wow, Ree, you stink," Odifira said bluntly, readying her lyre. "How about a song to cheer you up?"

" _We suck, we suck  
_ _Ladies and gents, we suck  
_ _We suck, we suck  
_ _We're stuck, so play some skull-skull!  
_ _Cluck-cluck, what the fuck, our luck's run out  
_ _We're rangers of the north  
_ _And we suck!_ "

"Enough with the songs, Odifira," Caelynna said tersely. "Now's not the time." She pointed. "Look, there's a path over that way."

A dirt trail became visible between the trees. A few feet down the path in the center was a man-sized black mushroom with vividly purple spots.

"Oh, cool," said Marie. "Stay here. I'm going to investigate the shroom."

Marie crept forward and poked the mushroom with her finger, and was immediately enveloped in a cloud of green spores.

"Shit, not again," Caelynna muttered.

"So that's what that does," came Marie's casual voice from within the cloud.

Through the trees, they could now hear the clanking of weapons and the screechy, guttural sounds of goblin voices.

"Cool," said Marie, emerging unharmed from the cloud of spores. "Fighting time."

"Enough goofing off, you lot," Caelynna commanded. "The caravan is just up ahead. Let's get moving!"

Odifira rolled her eyes. "Don't tell me what to do. I'll go at my own pace."

"Draw your weapons, gals," said Marie, leading the way. "Move."

"Ready when you are, Cap," said Caelynna.

~0~0~0~

They emerged from the thick forest, onto the open road. A fair distance away, the wagon Taramin had seen had been wrecked, the horses and passengers slaughtered. The last living human in the caravan gurgled as a goblin, a hunched green-skinned man even smaller than a halfling, slit his throat with a black iron sword. Atop the wrecked wagon, another goblin armed with a bow and arrow scanned their surroundings, while a third goblin clad in a black hood chanted under her breath as shadows swirled around her feet.

From behind the wagon, two kobolds came into view, four-foot-tall scaly humanoids with gangly limbs and long-snouted crocodilian faces, armed with spears.

Caelynna drew her sword and scowled. "They'll pay for the innocent blood spilled with their own."

Odifira beheld the goblins with awe. "Wonder if they survive, I can take 'em out for a pint?" she mused.

The sword-wielding goblin dropped his victim and turned to face his fellows. " _That's all of them,_ " he grunted in the goblin tongue. " _Let's take our plunder and go._ "

"Move in," Marie ordered. With Nicole by her side, she strode out into the open.

The goblin archer was the first to spot her. " _Rangers!_ " she hissed, pulling back an arrow.

"Shit," Marie cursed. "Okay, let's have some fun." The goblin's arrow buried itself in her shoulder. "Fuck."

The hooded goblin stepped forward. The shadows around her feet expanded, the swirling and grasping darkness covering the ground in a ten-foot radius around the goblin. She held out a single hand and declared, " _Feel the wrath of Maglubiyet!_ " A huge, dark hand of pure magical energy burst into existence and squeezed Marie, holding her in place.

"Damn goblins!" said Caelynna. "You'll be paying your debt with your blood!" She fired an arrow at the hooded goblin.

The goblin archer shot Marie a second time, while the hooded one slashed her with an axe. "Welp," Marie said faintly, "nice knowin' you." She collapsed to the ground.

" _You will fall to shadow_ ," the goblin growled.

"That's what I think about doing all the time," Odifira said approvingly.

Caelynna searched her person, but found she had collected none of the supplies from the outpost. "By the gods, we're idiots!"

"Yes, you all are," Odifira agreed, leaning against a tree. "Do better, rangers!"

"Will you shut up and get over here?" said Caelynna, readying another arrow and glaring over her shoulder at the halfling. "Standing away from the battle is not helpful!"

Taramin ran further into the open, shooting the sword-wielding goblin with two arrows at once, both of which were deflected.

Odifira sighed and straightened up, cracking her knuckles as she set her gaze upon the sword-wielder. "Shame I gotta slam this cutie," she said to herself. She pointed a finger at him, and as she spoke, magical energy began to build around her hand. "A target like you is easy pickings. After all, you stand out like an ugly sore thumb. These people died because they couldn't stand the sight of you, or your very existence. When you breathe, you only make all the precious shit you hold worthless. Touching it, even more so. You couldn't fight even if you were as sexy as me, and only death can be the sweet release from those needles you call weapons." As her voice reached a crescendo, a burst of magical energy blasted the goblin, leaving him with a vicious slice across the face.

Caelynna took note of one of the kobolds, approaching her stealthily with his vicious barbed spear. "Wrong choice, you ugly bastard," she said, drawing her sword once again and charging at him, taking a wild swing and stumbling down to one knee.

Reeling from the psychic insult Odifira had thrown at him, the goblin with the sword stumbled toward the halfling woman, his blade at the ready.

Nicole guarded Marie's unconscious body, growling.

" _You'll be a fine rug for my cave, wolf,_ " the goblin archer said with a grin, readying her bow.

Taramin set aside his bow and drew two shortswords, using them to entangle the goblin engaged in combat with Odifira. After a moment's dueling, the goblin fell, dead.

" _You will not defeat us,_ " the kobold in front of Caelynna said in the language of dragons. " _The road is ours._ " He stabbed the kneeling eladrin hard with his spear.

Odifira plucked a few strings of her lyre and thrust a hand at the kobold. The rush of magical energy instead hit Caelynna, who wandered off in a random direction. Bewildered, the kobold took another stab at her.

"By… the gods!" said Caelynna, regaining her senses and wiping the blood from her face. "You… son of a…" Shaking her head, she readied her sword again and charged back at the kobold.

Nicole snapped ineffectively at the kobold and goblin engaged in combat with her, soon falling to their spear, axe, and the arrows of the archer.

Taramin joined Caelynna in dueling with the other kobold, his swords deftly bypassing the kobold's attempts at defending with its spear.

"Pfah!" Caelynna crowed. "You call yourself a skirmisher? Weak ass."

The kobold jabbed at Taramin, who dodged elegantly; the kobold did a twirl and jabbed its spear into the halfling's side, bloodying him, before swiftly springing backward and running away.

"Coward!" Caelynna called after it.

" _Bastard_ ," the other kobold muttered under its breath.

Odifira muttered a spell. An illusory dagger sprang from Taramin's hand and nicked the remaining kobold. The kobold growled and glared at Taramin.

The archer set her sights on Odifira, her arrow plugging the halfling in the chest, gushing blood.

The fleeing kobold hesitated, turning around and charging at Caelynna. Taramin intercepted him with a sword strike, cutting the kobold's throat.

Caelynna glared at the swirling smoke that concealed the hooded goblin. "Come out from behind that veil, you coward!" she declared. "Face me like a true warrior!" The goblin responded with an axe strike, leaving a bloody gash on her leg.

Odifira breathed heavily and began giggling wildly. "Oh, Sehanine! This is an amazing joke you've played on a precious kobold who thinks she's tough shit. Behold the stupidity on display as she tosses weapons around like a stick for the dog. It's so friggin' cute that I'm bleeding from laughter. It's like going against a child for how little the ko-bitch actually knows. Like, what are you going to do with those valuables? Use them for a toilet, a mixing bowl? You couldn't sell them since you tainted them."

She blasted the kobold with magic, causing blood to burst from the creature's nose and eyes.

" _You know_ ," the kobold remarked, " _most bards go for laughs with that move. What sort of…_ " She turned to her fallen comrade and winced.

The archer fired another arrow, this one missing Caelynna and taking out the hooded goblin's eye.

The acolyte screamed. " _Hey, watch it!"_ she screeched at the archer.

" _Oops_ ," the archer said innocently, brushing hair out of her eyes.

Grumbling and staggering, the goblin acolyte thrust a hand toward Odifira. The giant magic hand squeezed Odifira, crushing her into unconsciousness before dropping her to the ground.

Taramin sliced at the remaining kobold, killing it. Caelynna sliced the goblin acolyte across the face.

The goblin archer shot twice, once at Caelynna, felling her, and again at Taramin, the arrow going straight through his head, killing him instantly.

" _That's all of them_ ," the archer grunted in satisfaction.

The acolyte's shadowy veil retreated into her body. " _Shall we return to camp?_ "

The archer prepared another arrow. " _Slit their throats for good measure._ "

Caelynna sprang to her feet and swung at the acolyte, lopping the goblin's head clean off. "You messed with the wrong group," she said raggedly.

The archer pointed her bow at Caelynna. " _Just you and me now, high elf,_ " she said. " _Any last words?_ " Before Caelynna could answer, the goblin fired, hitting her with an arrow.

"Screw you!" Caelynna retorted. "I hope you rot in the Nine Hells." She picked up the unconscious body of Odifira and sprinted back into the forest.

~0~0~0~

The goblin archer hopped down from the wagon, alone among a field of bodies. Bending down, she slit the throats of Marie and Nicole. " _Can't carry the wolf alone,_ " she said in disappointment, kicking Nicole's body. " _Lizardcaster won't be pleased that I lost my entire raiding party. Regardless…_ " She searched the rubble for a flag, a flag depicting a jagged spiral crossed by an X, and planted it in the ground. " _Our act of war will not go unnoticed._ "

Purple strands of some strange substance emerged from behind a tree and enveloped the goblin, who died almost instantly. As the strands vanished, a dark elf woman approached from behind the same tree. "Foul lesser being," she said in a reverberating voice. "I had high hopes for these rangers… is the world in such a dark place that there are no heroes who can fight off raiding goblins?" She spat on Marie's corpse. "I shall have to hold out hope that the eladrin bitch and the funny little bard are made of tougher stuff." She snapped her fingers. "Go to them, my spiders. Make them strong. Make them know that they must be strong or die."

~0~0~0~

 **DM's note:** _So, this being my first large-scale battle… it was very stressful, running an encounter with ten distinct combatants. I also didn't anticipate half the party getting killed! Then I had to rewrite the second half of the one-shot into something that only two characters can survive. Though, as we've just seen, what do I know about encounters that players can survive?_

 _That ending up there is what I call a cinematic, a third-person scene that none of the player characters are witness to, but which I narrate to the players; I had intended to reserve those for the beginning of every volume/level, but this moment seemed to merit my improvising one to end the episode._


	13. Den of the Spiders

**DM's Note:** _So, uh, yeah, I don't exactly remember when I and the two survivors of the previous episode managed to finally squeeze in an end to the chapter, just that it certainly took me a few months to finally convert the chapter into the form of this story. …Sorry._

~0~0~0~

 **WHIRLWIND**

 **Bonus Chapter 1: Rangers of the North  
** **Episode 13: Den of the Spiders**

" _We are but flies in the web of the Spider Queen. She draws us ever closer."  
_ Paena Dru'kensos, drow priestess, 812 years before the fall

~0~0~0~

Caelynna raced back through the forest toward the outpost, cradling the unconscious Odifira in her arms.

"Shit… shit," she muttered. "Ah!" She stumbled over a rock, falling to her face, Odifira rolling ahead of her. Caelynna struggled to her knees. "Damn goblins."

Odifira's eyes fluttered open and she glanced around. "Ooh! Did we win? Are there any valuables left? I do love the rewards of being a hero, wouldn't you say so, guys?" She stood up and looked around, realizing Caelynna was alone. "Wait, so it's just you?" she said, putting her hands on her hips. "Well, that's sucky. Fuck, we didn't even get anything out of this." She scoffed and sat next to Caelynna, playing her lyre. "Welp, guess I'll just practice."

"By the gods," Caelynna said gravely. "Well, at least _you're_ not dead. I suppose that's a plus." She adjusted herself to lean against a tree. "Those goblins put up a hell of a fight. How are you doing?"

"Oh, I'm fine. Just wish we could've got something from you guys' hard work. But no, goblins die and we've got nothing but injuries to show for it. Other than that, I suppose it's a win."

"Considering Taramin and Marie are dead, and we barely escaped _goblins_ with our lives, I would hardly say we deserve anything from that. We do need to get back to town, warn the rest of the unit."

~0~0~0~

A while later, they had bandaged each other up and were on their feet.

"We need to head to town," Caelynna said again, one hand on the tree to support herself. "It's our best bet, since we're already so far from the keep. We have to warn the other guards."

Odifira looked up at her. "No," she said flatly.

"What? What—what do you mean no? It's our safest bet! We're practically there!"

"Safest bet?" Odifira snorted. "Dude, you can barely stand. As fun as that was, we should get more shit from the outpost so neither of us will die. Or at the very least, so I won't die."

"The town has more supplies than our crappy outpost! Besides, I need a healer, not a healing potion!"

Odifira rolled her eyes. "Fine. Whatever. If we die getting there, well, I'll kill ya." She proceeded back in the direction of the battle they had just fought, strumming her lyre.

~0~0~0~

They emerged from the forest and looked upon the carnage of the battle. Bodies were strewn all around—the members of the caravan, their colleagues, the wolf, and the goblins and kobolds, including, oddly enough, the archer who had chased them off, unmarked but unmistakably dead.

"Oh, shit," said Caelynna, staring at the flag planted in the ground. "I'm glad you agreed, because we really need to get to town. Now."

"Yeah, yeah," Odifira said dismissively, immediately beginning to rifle through the pockets of the dead bodies.

"Take the shit, I honestly don't care," Caelynna said tersely. "We need to get going!"

Odifira pulled the amulet from Taramin's neck and Marie's belt from her waist, putting them on herself, along with several sacks of coin and two quivers of arrows.

"Here," she said, offering the arrows to Caelynna. When Caelynna hesitated, Odifira sneered, "They have no use for weapons, Lynny."

"Gods, can you pick a nickname? I'm having a hard time keeping track." She looked around. "All right, if you're quite done, let's get moving."

"Okay!" Odifira said brightly, skipping along while playing her lyre. "Finally, something good came from this mess!"

~0~0~0~

They proceeded south; the walls of Sheradon were visible in the distance. But as they found their way back on to the path, they found it blocked by three kobolds. Two of them were small and scrawny, wielding small spears and tiny round shields. The third, lurking behind them, wore heavy armor and wielded a sword and a kite-shaped shield emblazoned with the image of a black dragon.

The armored kobold spoke in Draconic, words that neither of them could understand. Caelynna hesitated.

The larger kobold beat the pommel of his sword against his shield, and the two scrawny minions began to advance.

"Damn it," Caelynna muttered. She held up her hands, palms forward. "Look, buddy, I know we're easy targets, but let us go and there may be some compensation." She drew a small bag of silver from her belt and jangled it.

One of the minions turned back to the leader and asked him something. The leader shook his head and raised his sword, roaring a grand declaration.

"Damn it," Caelynna said again. "Odifira, get ready to fight!"

"You just had to say we're easy targets," Odifira snipped.

"I saw we get the scrawny bastards first, then pummel the leader," Caelynna whispered, drawing her longsword.

Odifira glared. "Don't tell me what to do!" She hurled a magical attack at the sword-wielding kobold, who deflected it with his shield.

The two spear-wielding kobolds converged on Caelynna and jabbed at her. She dodged their blows, and killed one of them in a single blow.

Odifira opened her mouth wide and shouted, the magical force of her yell blasting the kobold leader, who began swirling with energy.

The remaining kobold minion screamed and hurled his spear at Caelynna. Before he could react with surprise to his own hit, Caelynna jabbed her sword through his throat.

The kobold fell, and Caelynna spat on his corpse. "Weak ass." The kobold leader nodded, and muttered something in agreement.

Odifira and the kobold leader approached each other. Odifira blasted him with magic, but he stepped right through it and slashed her with his sword. Caelynna very carefully aimed her own sword at him. He shrugged off the blow, but the magic aura Odifiria had placed on him washed over her, healing her wounds.

Odifira plucked a few strings of her lyre, then struck the kobold across the face with her whip.

He snarled at her, and his sword slashed across her face, leaving her a raw, bloody mess. Caelynna jumped into combat with the kobold, crossing swords with him.

Odifira stepped back and cast a healing spell on herself, feeling her face and finding that a chunk of her nose was completely gone.

"Ugh," she snarled, glaring at the kobold. "What the hell is that all over your face? Oh… it's just your face!"

The magic insult caught him full in the face, causing a blood vessel in his eye to burst. He roared and raised his sword, but before he could swing it, Caelynna sliced him in half from shoulder to hip.

"We need to keep moving," Caelynna said immediately. "Quickly, before more arrive."

Odifira glared. "Fine, let's go. Let's see if you can lose your nose, bitch." She advanced on Caelynna, her dagger drawn.

"Seriously?" Caelynna pointed to the massive scarring across her own face. "Almost did. My eye too."

Odifira rolled her eyes. "Scars like that are sexy, noseless bitches aren't," she huffed. "Let's just go tell whoever's in charge of this shithole and then the goblins are their problem."

Before either of them could move a step, the ground rumbled and a chasm opened beneath them, right in the middle of the road. The pair of them and the kobold's corpse tumbled down into a cave, ten feet below.

"HOLY—" Odifira began before she made impact with the ground. Her blood splattered across the stony floor, and she weakly got to her feet, gazing at the sky above. "SERIOUSLY!" she bellowed. "Ugh, of course it's never this easy. I blame you for this." With that, she walked over to the body of the kobold leader and began looting it.

"Ah, shit," Caelynna breathed as she stood. "Are you okay?"

"We fell into this stupid fucking pit, we lost half of our worthless teammates, my nose is gone, and we've been attacked and injured ever since we got here with nothing accomplished! Do you _think_ I'm okay?"

Odifira's angry tirade echoed loudly across the stone, drawing both of their attention to a dark tunnel sloping downwards, a warm breeze coming from below.

"Huh, looks like your temper came in handy," Caelynna remarked, squinting into the darkness. "Damn… can't see a thing."

"Well, gee, what a surprise," said Odifira, crossing her arms. "Why don't we just wait around, sing songs, and die? We're just gonna be useless remains like our teammates."

Caelynna scowled. "Well, damn, if you want to stay here, be my guest. I've got a job to do, a city to protect. Someone has to warn them." Without a look back, she entered the tunnel. Reluctantly, Odifira followed, neither of them aware of the pit being sealed behind them, the dirt and stone taking shape back into the road as if the open wound in the earth had never appeared.

The pair of them traversed the tunnel in total darkness for over a hundred feet, before coming upon an open space lit by a tiny hole in the ceiling, a perfectly square room with a door on the opposite side and a chest against one of the walls.

Caelynna's eyes widened at the sight of the chest, and she studiously ignored it as she crossed the room to the door, carefully opening it. Odifira followed, and the two were now in a massive cavern, continuing to twist ever downward.

"Oh goody, maybe there'll be treasure or something," said Odifira. "Guess you aren't as dumb as you look."

Caelynna rolled her eyes and proceeded.

The earth rumbled again, and rocks began to fall from the highest points of the cavern. The two adventurers immediately began to run forward, narrowly managing to completely avoid the rockslide, turning around to stare at it as the stones continued to tumble from the ceiling, blocking the path from whence they came.

Abruptly, a torch flared to life against the wall, revealing a carving.

"Oh, finally, light!" Odifira exclaimed. "Maybe we can finally get somewhere…"

"Let's hope there's finally an exit," Caelynna remarked, stepping closer to the carving.

At the top of the inscription in Elven script was the unfamiliar phrase " _kokhav dakhah_ ". The bulk of the carving was a large circle with four illustrations around its edge like the points of a compass: the north point depicted a city on fire; the east, a comet; the south point, a low-slung, bipedal reptilian monster with a maw of sharp teeth; and the west, a jagged spiral like the one on the flag the goblins and kobolds were bearing.

"Cool," said Odifira, smirking.

Caelynna ran her hand over the symbols. "Hmm… these two…" She pointed to the comet and the flaming city. "These two, I know. But this one, this… monster… I can't quite figure it out."

Odifira traced the image of the monster with her finger thoughtfully, then shrugged and flicked the carving dismissively. "Well, that was pointless."

"Not necessarily… if only I had a parchment, I could write it down." She sighed. "No matter, let's keep moving."

Odifira gave a mocking salute. "Got it."

As they proceeded, another torch began burning, illuminating some paintings on the walls, a very recent coat of red and purple paints, depicting three images: a corpulent creature with a long spiny tail and a head like the skull of a goat; a one-eyed and one-handed skeleton in wizard's robes; and a mountian, decorated with that same jagged spiral.

"Oh, I don't like the look of this," said Caelynna. "Keep your wits about you."

"Oh, c'mon now, it's just a drawing of Orcus," said Odifira, indicating the goat-headed creature. "Now quit being such a baby."

"Excuse me for being cautious."

"Hmm," Odifira muttered, looking now at the skeletal wizard. "Vecna. Cool."

They continued to wander through the cave. "We are in no shape for an ambush," Caelynna cautioned. "Remember to stay alert."

"Don't tell me what to do, Cael."

The cave ended in a huge iron-bound door.

"Great fricking job!" Odifira snapped. "We met a fucking dead end! But hey, at least we got to see mediocre cave art." She kicked the door.

"By the gods, it's just a door. You know how doors work, right? If we want to get out, we have to go through."

"Oh. When you put it that way…" Odifira drew her shortsword. "Let's break it down!"

"Now wait a minute." Caelynna pointed meaningfully at the door's keyhole.

Odifira rolled her eyes. "Fine, we'll do it the other way."

Odifira produced a pair of fingerless gloves and pulled them on, followed by a set of thieves' tools. After a bit of dramatic posing, she set to work picking the lock.

After a time, the lock clicked and the door slowly swung open.

"Yes!" Odifira squealed, punching the air triumphantly.

They now found themselves in a massive room lit by torches of purple flame—a room so large that it was foggy inside.

"Ooh, shiny," Odifira remarked appreciatively, nodding at the distant purple lights.

Caelynna drew her sword as she slowly proceeded. "Keep quiet."

She failed to notice the pressure plate as she stepped on it, and instantly, a panel in the floor opened up and a spear thrust upwards, slicing across her ribs. "Augh!"

Every other spear trap in the room simultaneously activated as well, a few of them within sight, the others audible through the fog. As she spears retracted, Caelynna fell to her knees, clutching her wounds.

"Whoa!" Odifira exclaimed. "You're looking worse for wear. Luckily I'm here!" She waved her hands over Caelynna, and her wounds were mended.

Caelynna stood up shakily. "Thanks. Let's continue onward. _Not_ following my example."

"Neve would," Odifira chirped.

They proceeded through the massive room, the lines of purple torches on either side of them.

"Exits have to be on the walls, right?" said Caelynna. "Maybe if we follow the wall?"

"Ugh, you are a terrible leader!" Odifira said in disgust. "Can we even _find_ the walls?"

"Thanks, you're a big help." Caelynna glanced down at Odifira. "Would you like to lead?"

"Sure!"

Odifira led the way toward the torches, watching the floor and avoiding the pressure plates that concealed the spear traps. She finally came close enough to one of the torches that the purple flame was clearly visible; thoughtfully, she ran her hand along the wall, unaware of the glassy spiderwebs that covered the entire surface.

The webs sliced into her flesh, and her hand began to bleed so profusely that she was unconscious in seconds. Terrified, Caelynna ran up and sprinkled magical yellow power all over Odifira, mending her wounds.

Caelynna lifted the unconscious halfling over her shoulder and, without thinking, put her own hand on the wall for guidance. She, too, was sliced up by the peculiar webs.

The earth rumbled again, and the floor opened beneath their feet. The two of them tumbled into a small, cramped cave.

"S… sh… shit," Caelynna spluttered. She looked down to find that Odifira's skull had been caved in by the fall.

Numerous spiders the size of small dogs gathered around them curiously as Caelynna continued to bleed. The dark elf woman approached, flanked by two pure white spiders as large as elephants.

"Hmm," she said thoughtfully. "I really thought I was onto something with this bunch. Someone has to rise up and deal with this crap. But not you. You… are dead. On to the next bunch of rookies standing in line, I suppose."

The woman truned and walked away, leaving Caelynna to bleed out as the spiders, both small and large, began to close in.

~0~0~0~

 **DM's note:** _And there we have it, that's the end of Volume 1… and the end of this incarnation of the story. Our schedules once again do not permit weekly D &D sessions… and, you know what, I finally got sick of 4th Edition. So, it's time for another reboot. I'm going to rewrite everything that's happened so far, reframing it to take place in a 5th Edition setting, and from then on… well, we won't be playing a 5th Edition game, per se, rather, we'll be collaborating on the writing of a novel with the game rules influencing certain decision points._

 _So, thanks for reading this story, and if you've read this story, feel free to skip over Volume 1 of the reboot, it'll be different but not different enough to merit reading the entire story arc all over again. Thank you for your time, and be well._

 **VOLUME 1 CREDITS**

Dungeon Master … **Sage Mann  
** Anwen Ma'Sijor … **McKenzie Eby  
** Pelora Newserge … **Nathalie Jenfjord  
** Artin Arfire … **Jack Stegman  
** Caelynna Vis'edruu … **Casey Gosselin  
** Marie Paget … **Christine Kelley  
** Odifira Quickrun … **McKenzie Eby  
** Taramin Baggerhides … **Nathalie Jenfjord**


End file.
